


To Raise a Son

by jellijeans



Series: bound by blood (fe7) [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Spoilers, gonna be a WILD ride with this one folks, parENTS BECAUSE I LOVE ELININI WITH MY WHOLE ASS HEART, roylina comes in a lot later + is very background compared to elinini
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-05-15 07:12:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 33,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellijeans/pseuds/jellijeans
Summary: Eliwood has always been sickly.Over time, he grew out of it, to a certain extent—he needed to train twice as hard and twice as long, and rest for three times that, but still, he refused to fall behind. Not when he had people like Hector to compete with.He was, and is, determined not to be a burden, and so he made himself grow out of it. Incompetence is something he hates, and he’s always been determined not to be the best, but not to be the one that falls behind. Not to be the one who feels inferior because they could not do what others could.And yet, sitting at the floor beside his bed, watching his wife rock their infant son in her arms, he has never felt so beautifully incompetent in his entire life.





	1. Chapter 1

Eliwood has always been sickly.

 

Over time, he grew out of it, to a certain extent—he needed to train twice as hard and twice as long, and rest for three times that, but still, he refused to fall behind. Not when he had people like Hector to compete with.

He was, and is, determined not to be a burden, and so he _made_ himself grow out of it. Incompetence is something he _hates_ , and he’s always been determined not to be the best, but not to be the one that falls behind. Not to be the one who feels inferior because they could not do what others could.

 

And yet, sitting at the floor beside his bed, watching his wife rock their infant son in her arms, he has never felt so beautifully incompetent in his entire life.

 

Having their son was not easy on Ninian.

There was blood—gods, _so much blood_ —and screaming and more pain than Eliwood has ever witnessed in his entire life, and it took over twenty four hours. The royal clerics came and went in shifts while Eliwood had merely watched, unable to do anything except hold Ninian’s hand and tell her everything would be alright, and when the whole ordeal was finally over, his wife looked as if she was about to pass out. Although they had rushed healers in as soon as possible, it wasn’t whether or not she would immediately be okay that worried him—it was the question of whether she would ever be okay again.

The countdown in his head is eternally more frightening than the countdowns of the royal nurses could ever be.

 

After their son is cleaned, fed, and asleep, she looks up at Eliwood with eyes hollow and tired, yet brimming with the most love and hope and admiration that he’s ever seen, and offers him a small smile; he smiles back, although he’s sure anxiety is reflected in his eyes, too.

She reaches out a hand and he takes hers in his and squeezes it softly, trying to take in everything of every second she has left.

“...tomorrow?” he asks softly. Ninian shakes her head.

“Not tomorrow,” she whispers in return. Somehow, the fact that they have at least one more day doesn’t make him feel any better.

“Ninian...”

“I have some time, Eliwood,” she responds softly. “I promise.”

“How much is some?” he asks.

“Years,” she responds.

He brings her hand up to his lips and kisses it softly, and then takes a long look at their beautiful son—maybe a bit pudgy, but so _small_ , and more healthy than he’s ever been—and wishes that moments like these would never have to end.

 

“What do you want to name him?” Ninian asks after a moment.

“Mm...Elroy, maybe,” he says thoughtfully. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“ _Elroy_?”

He sighs and lets out a laugh. It’s been too long since he’s had one of those.

“Fine, fine. What do you think?”

“Just Roy works,” she says, and he can’t help but notice the twinkle in her eye and fall in love with her all over again. He smiles.

“Roy it is.”


	2. Chapter 2

The first nights they spend with Roy are sleepless and long. Roy awakens every couple of hours, usually crying for food—as newborns are wont to do, Eliwood supposes—and Ninian, in her exhaustion, trails over to him and sits down to feed him.

 

Most of the children in the Lycian noble houses have been wet-nursed, but Eliwood and Ninian had decided against that, reserving one not to feed Roy, but perhaps to serve as a sort of nanny later on; Roy has a milk-brother, but only in the sense that they possess the same wet nurse in theory, not in practice. In being unsure how much time Ninian would have, they had decided to let her bond with her son as much as she could. Nothing about them is particularly conventional, after all; they hadn’t seen the need for that to be, either.

 

There’s something about Eliwood during these hours that makes Ninian all the more grateful for him; despite the fact that he can’t feed Roy, he follows her anyway, making quiet conversation as Ninian lulls Roy back to sleep, or simply resting his head on her shoulder and dozing off there instead of the bed just to keep her company.

Once, Roy does not wake up because he’s hungry—he awakens because he’s frightened. Eliwood and Ninian can’t figure out by what, but he is, so they both go to calm him down.

Ninian tries to feed him first, of course; that doesn’t work, so she passes him to Eliwood for a second as she adjusts herself.

 

As she pins her hair up again, she hears a quiet humming coming from her husband, and looks over to see him sitting on the floor, leaning with his back against the wall with their son in his arms, and quietly singing a lullaby.

It’s not one she knows, of course—even now, she still learns more about Pheraen culture on a daily basis—but listening to Eliwood sing it makes her feel like she’s known it her entire life.

 

She _loves_ Eliwood’s voice; he doesn’t sing often—he’s conscious of it, she knows—but his baritone melody is quite possibly one of her favorite things in the entire world. By the looks of it, it’s quickly becoming one of Roy’s favorite things, too; their son falls silent and merely looks at his father and listens for a while before dozing back to sleep, and Eliwood gives their son a soft smile and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead before returning him to his crib. He turns around to see Ninian gazing at him fondly, an endeared smile painted onto her face.

“O-oh—I didn’t realize you were listening—I didn’t want to disturb you or anything like that, but I thought that maybe he’d fall asleep if I—”

Ninian silences him by pressing a kiss to his lips, and he looks back at her with wide eyes and blush-stained cheeks.

“...what was that for?”

“I love you,” she merely says, and Eliwood smiles at her again.

“I love you, too.”

He pulls her into a soft hug, kissing her gently on the forehead and then resting his chin on the top of  her head, and she giggles into his chest.

“I’m so glad we still have time, my lord.”

“As am I, my love.” He takes a deep breath, and then exhales, and Ninian can feel his heartbeat beneath his nightshirt. “As am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (cleaned up the comments section a bit ;;)


	3. Chapter 3

Roy grows older, begins to babble instead of merely whine, and Ninian and Eliwood spend _all day_ fawning over him. It’s exhausting, yes, and Eliwood can’t remember the last time he got a good night’s sleep, but he loves his son more than anything; seeing their family, especially little Roy, around Pherae becomes a favorite of the Pheraen citizens.

He’s been told before that just looking at the three of them brings a smile to one’s face.

 

“He looks like you,” Ninian says one afternoon, holding Roy in her arms and gently playing with him. He gives a pleased squeal and Ninian smiles at him, pressing a kiss to his tiny hand.

“Really?” Eliwood asks. Ninian nods.

“I mean...” She brushes a hand over the light down of red hair and gives Eliwood a pointedly amused look. Eliwood shrugs.

“I guess, but...even facially? I don’t think I looked like that when I was that young,” he says.

“I think so. He has your nose.”

Eliwood’s fingers drift to his nose as he glances at Roy’s.

“Actually, I suppose he does.” Eliwood places himself beside Ninian on the sofa and rests his head on her shoulder after pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “I think he has your eyes, though.”

“My eyes are red, love,” Ninian says with an amused twinkle in her eye. Eliwood slaps his hand against his face.

“That was...that was daft,” he says quietly, laughing. “I mean...not the color, but the shape, I suppose. They’re rounder than mine are.”

“If you say so,” Ninian says softly. “I do think he’s rather the spitting image of you aside from that, though.” She passes Roy to Eliwood before getting up and stretching, but Eliwood is immediately concerned when she has to rest herself on the armrest for a moment before getting up and walking. He doesn’t even need to open his mouth before an “I’m fine” escapes from Ninian’s mouth. Eliwood is immediately up and cradling Roy in one arm so that he can rest the other on Ninian’s shoulder.

“My love—”

“Eliwood, I’m okay—”

“ _Ninian_ ,” he whispers, and Ninian can see the fear in his eyes.

“I’m okay,” she murmurs back. “Just a passing faintness. It takes time to recover—you heard what the healers said.”

“I know, but—”

“I’m okay.”

Eliwood takes his hand off of her shoulder and then takes one of hers, briefly bringing it to his lips, not breaking eye contact with her.

As she always does, always has done, she immediately turns tomato-red and glances away from him, and he lets out a soft chuckle, standing up to press a soft kiss to her lips.

In his arms, Roy lets out a pleased babble, and both of them laugh. She takes Roy back from her husband and sits back down on the couch, and shoots Eliwood an amused look when he rests himself beside her and places his head in her lap. As tall as he is, his legs extend well over the other armrest, and it makes her laugh—he’s so _lanky._  She hadn’t really noticed it during the war—it wasn’t the first thing on her mind, really, and he was wearing so much armor—but in casual clothes, his slender physique is increasingly obvious.

(Despite that, he still retains a substantial amount of the muscle he built up as a teenager, and she is _certainly_ not against that.)

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon like that, in a state of quiet reticence, and Ninian wishes she could spend the next one hundred years like this, wishes she could see her son grow up, wishes she could grow old with Eliwood, wishes she—

Really, all Ninian wishes is that she doesn't have to go so soon, but...

She estimates that she has three, maybe four years left, and wishes that those four years could last one million lifetimes.

If only, she thinks sadly, although she doesn't dare vocalize it in front of Eliwood. Gods know he worries about this far more often than she does, and he doesn't need any more pressure on his shoulders.

She looks at her husband, eyes shut and already fallen into a blissful sleep on her lap, and then to her son, silent but awake in her arms, who innocently smiles at her when their eyes meet.

If only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it begins
> 
> there are gonna be like 2-3 more chapters before shit really starts hitting the fan but. prepare yourselves lmao  
> honestly this fic could easily be 10+ chapters, but my upload schedule will be fairly consistent + frequent because of summer break !!
> 
> thank you all so much for the support!!


	4. Chapter 4

Roy turns one, and babbles begin to turn into words; Ninian and Eliwood begin to get more sleep, slowly, and Ninian’s energy doesn’t come back, but it doesn’t get worse, and for a time, there is peace, both at home and in Lycia. Eliwood and Ninian spend more time just outside in the city with Roy than they did before, and it’s a relaxing pastime.

Eliwood brings the two of them to his favorite spot in Pherae, several miles away from the tail end of Rebecca’s village—a beautiful field of forget-me-nots, every size and color, littered with other flowers in between, and a great tree in the middle. He brings the two of them there in the very early morning, right before the sunrise, with Roy in his arms, even though their son isn’t even close to awake yet.

“It’s better when the dew is still fresh,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “Hector and I used to play here when we were young. I believe Father proposed to Mother here, too, although obviously I wasn’t around for that,” he adds with a laugh. Ninian offers him a grin that’s quickly followed by a yawn.

“Eliwood, you brought us here awfully early,” she says, and Eliwood nods.

“I know, I know—but...trust me. You have to see the sunrise here. You just have to.”

She looks at him, his face painted with excitement, and nods sleepily.

“If you say so, my lord.”

 

He wanders around a bit before he finds a place to throw the blanket down, and the place he ends up picking is right beneath the branches of the big tree; the sky is starting to be stained with pink by the time he’s finally picked a spot, and as soon as he sits down, Ninian is curled up beside him, her head resting on his thigh, with Roy asleep on the blanket in front of them. He rests a hand on the side of her head and brushes it through her hair, twisting it into the delicate braids that Ninian has taught him after years of marriage; he had never been sure how she had slept or done things that would require much physical activity and nothing in the way with hair as long as that, and yet after the first night they’d spent together, it was clear.

 

-

 

_“Ninian, could you pass me my—” Eliwood cuts himself off after he pulls his shirt over his head, gazing fondly at Ninian, already in her night dress, delicately braiding her hair from the top down in thick braids that seemed to span the entire back of her head._

_“Ah, apologies, my lord,” she murmurs softly. “It’s...difficult to sleep in the warmer nights with my hair down, so I’ve taken to braiding it. It was something I picked up when I first came here, but I’m afraid I didn’t have much time to do so during the war.”_

_“N-no, it’s quite alright,” he responds, slightly breathless. “I just have...never seen you do this, that’s all.”_

_“If you would prefer it down tonight, my lord, I can—”_

_“No, it’s okay! You look...you look really pretty, Ninian.”_

_“A-ah...” She smiles softly, the traces of a blush spreading across her cheeks as she looks away. “Th-thank you, Lord Eliwood. If we’re going to be spending more time together, I suppose I should teach you—”_

_“Would you?”_

_“Would you like me to?”_

_“Very much so,” he responds with just a hint of cheekiness tinting his tone, and Ninian stifles a laugh._

_“Of course, my lord. Here—”_

_She places herself on the bed beside him, the small of her back brushing lightly against his knee, and does one of the braids for him, and as soon as it’s done, she leans back so that her head and shoulders are resting on his chest, and shows him how to start off the other one, gently taking his hand in hers and showing him the way._

_Twist, flip, take, twist._

_His braid is messy, not nearly as refined as hers, but still, it’s something he’s done with his own hands, and so she loves it—when she asks if he would like more practice, he nods quickly, brashly, and with the same grace that she does everything, she takes just one strand and undoes the entire braid so that he might try again._

_Twist, flip, take, twist._

_He repeats it, and somehow, even if not a lot, he learns._

 

_When he finally has a braid he’s satisfied with, Ninian, still resting on his chest, is almost asleep—_

_Having her hair played with must be more relaxing to her than he thought, she realizes—_

_And Eliwood smiles. He gently shifts her off of his chest to the bed, and as soon as he’s changed into his nightclothes, curls up behind her, his chest pressed against her back and his legs tucked into the nooks of hers, with his arms around her waist and her braids still intact against her head in front of him. Butterfly-light, he kisses the back of her neck, and finds himself quickly drifting to sleep soon after._

 

-

 

By the time he’s finished with both sides of her head, slow and meticulous as he’s always been, he can see the edges of the sun peeking over the horizon, and he gently nudges her and Roy awake.

“Roy—and Ninian, my love,” he says, “look at this!”

 

She rubs at her eyes and turns and looks, and it is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

 

The sun lights up the sky like a stained glass mosaic, turning the clouds all sorts of different colors as they reflect the technicolor atmosphere itself; above her, she sees every color she can name, and in front of her, the field of dew-laden forget-me-nots lights up like magic from Archsage Athos’ tome, shining together and yet individually like a beautiful crystalline melody. The entire scene is so beautiful that it brings tears to her eyes. Even Roy is mesmerized, so awestruck that he can’t even bring himself to play with one of the nearby flowers—she turns to Eliwood, who’s gently smiling at her, and notices that the medley of colors is also playing off of his hair, which is what finally makes a tear leak onto her cheek. Eliwood brushes it away with his finger and kisses her on the spot that it left.

“Eliwood,” she whispers breathlessly, “it’s beautiful.”

“I know,” he says, and she can hear his happiness through his voice, and she loves it. “It reminds me of you.” He pauses. “I love you so much, Ninian.”

“I love you too, Lord Eliwood,” she says, and this time, it’s Eliwood’s cheeks that go pink.

 

They sit in silence for a while, with Roy on Eliwood’s lap, before getting up—Eliwood leads her to another spot on the field, where the flowers are almost entirely cyan-blue, and picks one for her, tucking it into the back of the braids he wove earlier, and Ninian giggles.

“Eliwood, these look so familiar,” she muses after a moment.

“Do you remember your wedding bouquet?”

“My wedding bouquet? Why—”

After a moment of thinking, it clicks.

“Ah! You made it for me,” she says softly. “I remember. It was entirely blue forget-me-nots.”

“I picked them from here. It’s a very personal spot to me, and I’ve always hoped to show it to you one day.”

“Thank you,” she says softly, placing her hand on the nape of his neck and bringing him down for a kiss. “I love it, and I love you. I never knew...I never knew this world could be so beautiful.”

He smiles.

She smiles back.

 

After an hour or so of frolicking in the fields, Roy is tired, so they return back home with the intention of one day, maybe when Roy is older, can handle being up so early better, returning—

Ninian doesn’t have the heart to tell him that in the future, the only remnant they will see of this field is the tiny patch of forget-me-nots that Eliwood plants in a pot on their windowsill as a desperate attempt to fulfill Ninian’s last wish of returning with Eliwood and Roy to the place she loves most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for the support !! the amount of love ive seen on this fic is really overwhelming ;; it makes me so happy !! i really hope this chapter is up to everyone's expectations!!


	5. Chapter 5

A year passes, and Ninian’s symptoms grow slightly worse, but not by much.

Eliwood knows she’s losing time, but he’s determined to make whatever amount of time they have into time that can last forever. Still, that old feeling of incompetence slips back into his mind, because he knows that their forever is finite, no matter what he does.

 

He walks into the grand living room of Castle Pherae to see his wife and Roy, sitting on the floor; Roy plays with a toy that Hector mailed from Ostia alongside his most recent letter, and Ninian watches him, listening to him as he talks and occasionally adding commentary.

 

“Good morning, Roy,” he says, rustling a hand through his son’s hair before also greeting Ninian and taking a seat, cross-legged, beside her.

“Hi Papa!”

Roy returns to his toy, and Eliwood grins.

“Now that he’s older, he _definitely_ looks like you,” Ninian comments cheekily. Eliwood inspects Roy’s face for a moment, although the toddler takes no notice as he babbles to himself, lost in a world of his own imagination.

“I suppose he does,” Eliwood says, but when he looks at him, all he can see is Ninian in the boy’s eyes, in his skin, in his smile, even in his voice. Ninian coughs, and Eliwood can hear crackling in her lungs. He immediately reaches for her hand and squeezes it, concerned blue eyes meeting hers, and she tries to smile, but all her face reflects is their shared uneasiness, and Eliwood exhales. “...how much time do you have left?”

Beside them, Roy, too young to understand, pays no attention, just continues playing—a level of innocence that Eliwood wishes he had.

“I don’t know—”

“Ninian...”

Ninian sucks in a breath, looking down. “...two years.”

Eliwood’s heart breaks. “...that’s it?”

“...yes. I’m sorry, my lord—”

“Please don’t apologize, my love,” he says quietly. He squeezes her hand again, and she looks back up at him, the rims of her eyes slightly pink with tears. “Any time with you is more than enough.”

“...thank you, Lord Eliwood.”

They drop the subject and leave it at that.

 

“So, since you’re half dragon—”

“Hm?”

“Will Roy have dragon...things, too?”

“Ah...” Ninian pauses and inspects Roy for a second, and he squeals when she lightly pinches his cheek. She smiles. “I don’t think so. You are...a child of the flame, of course, and one that is not quite so inhuman as—” Her breath catches for a moment, but she snaps out of it. “—as Nergal, so I doubt Roy will ever be as draconian as I or Nils am. It wouldn’t surprise me if he is stronger or heals faster, though.”

“Maybe Roy will become the greatest knight Lycia has ever seen,” Eliwood says, still watching their son. Roy toddles over—that’s why they’re called toddlers, Eliwood realizes, and he has to resist the urge to slap his forehead with his palm—and places his toy in his father’s lap, looking up at him cheerfully. Eliwood smiles at him and begins to play along, gazing at Roy with a special kind of affection that he hadn’t been sure he would ever recover when he was younger.

“That’s already your title,” Ninian jokes, resting her head on Eliwood’s shoulder. “Thank you for being an excellent father to him, Eliwood.”

“He’s our son, Ninian—I would be a disappointment if I weren’t. There’s nothing that requires thanking,” he says, quickly turning to kiss Ninian on her temple. “...I’m sorry if I brought anything up about Nergal earlier. I didn’t mean to. He was never a father to you.”

“He wasn’t,” Ninian agrees, “but Lord Elbert was. He showed Nils and I such kindness...I see so much of him in you, and so much of you in Roy. It’s remarkable, the kindness the two of you have shown me. I never would have thought I belonged in this world before meeting you.”

He feels his face heat up. “Of course, my love. This world would be sorely incomplete without you.”

Ninian coughs again, and Eliwood tenses, but he doesn’t say anything.

 

He thinks about Hector and Lyn, and their daughter, Lilina—Hector’s sent drawings of her alongside his letters, and Lilina is certainly a cute child. He wonders how she and Roy will get along later in life. When he thinks about it, neither Lilina nor Roy will grow up with a wholly Lycian background—Lyn no doubt is passing down Sacaen culture to Lilina, and Roy, of course...

“Mama,” Roy says, tugging at the edge of Ninian’s skirt, “dance?”

“Do you want me to dance, Roy?”

“Yes please!”

 

Ninian sucks in a breath and looks at Eliwood.

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve done this, my lord, so please excuse me if I don’t meet your expectations,” she says, half-laughing.

“Nothing you do could ever be bad,” he responds. Ninian blushes a little bit before stepping into a dance, and, like he finds himself doing in a different way every day, Eliwood loses himself in her and falls in love all over again.

From the moment she steps into the first turn, both Eliwood and Roy are mesmerized; it’s been so long since he’s seen her really throw herself into a dance—the way she _really_ dances, not the hesitant waltzes at Lycian formal galas—that his breath catches, because it just seems to come so naturally to her. She raises herself onto the balls of her feet and each step falls beautifully after the other, and her dress twists around her legs as she throws herself into a jump followed by a pirouette as soon as she lands. Her dance is an intricate patchwork of years of practiced preciseness and raw emotion that isn’t willing to wait for anything, and it’s truly stunning; when she’s done, Eliwood feels like he’s young all over again, his heart fluttering the same way it did when he first saw her and rescued her from those bandits. Beside him, Roy claps and makes a delighted noise, and she picks him up and smiles at him.

“Did you like that, Roy?”

“Yes!”

“I’m glad,” she says, and she kisses his cheek, and once again, Eliwood is eternally glad that despite everything fate has thrown their way, it allowed him to end up with her.

 

Unlike how she danced years ago, however, she has to take some time to catch her breath, and he can hear her wheeze when she inhales, and the beauty of the moment is ruined when she has the worst coughing fit she’s had since Roy was a newborn. Eliwood immediately rushes to grab her a glass of water, and as he leaves, he overhears a brief conversation between mother and son, in hushed voices filled with love and sorrow and concern all at once.

“...Mama?”

“Please don’t worry about me, Roy. Mama will be fine.”

A short pause, and then a small “okay”, and nothing else.

 

Eliwood comes back and hands her the glass, which she drinks without hesitation, and she draws the back of her hand across her mouth, the fit having subsided for now.

“Thank you,” she says, and Eliwood is relieved at the clarity of her voice.

“Of course.”

Ninian flashes him a smile before turning back to Roy.

“See, Roy? Mama’s okay,” she says, forcing brightness into her voice. Roy grins and nods, but he doesn’t head back to his toy quite yet, peering at Eliwood instead, and he melts at the sight of those deep blue eyes, his but Ninian’s all at the same time.

“You can go back to playing—Mama’s okay, Roy, I promise.” Roy nods and grins again and then speeds back to his toy, but Eliwood can’t help but feel like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone else.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight warning for blood! nothing major (no gore), but brief mentionings of it

 

Over the course of the next year, Ninian’s health begins to fail further. Not a coughing fit every now and then, not an infrequent dizzy spell, but sickness so bad she is left bedridden, and at a time when Roy is finally old enough to have some grasp of what’s going on. More and more frequently, Eliwood and Ninian make use of Rebecca, their “wet nurse”—she takes care of Roy when Ninian is too sick and when Eliwood is too distressed to.

She never dances again.

 

Eliwood strolls into their room one morning and sees Ninian sitting up for what feels like the first time in forever—he’s excited at first, but less so when he sees her tears and the blood edging at the corners of her mouth and the cloth in her lap, and he immediately rushes over to her and drops to his knees beside the bed.

“Oh, Elimine—Ninian, are you okay?”

She draws the cloth against her mouth again, and as she pulls it back, Eliwood can see faint prints of red on it, and the dread knots in his throat like he’s the one who’s dying.

“I’ll never be okay, Eliwood,” she whimpers. “I—I just want time—”

“You have time, my love,” he whispers shakily.

“A year isn’t enough, Eliwood,” she says, breaking into a sob. “Eliwood, I—I’m not afraid of dying, I...” She takes in a breath and Eliwood winces at the loud crackling in her lungs, but she doesn’t even try to cough and clear it out, it just sits and gets worse, like many things seem to do. “I want to see Roy grow up,” she says. “I want to grow old with you. I want to lead Pherae with you. I want to make mistakes with you and I want to fix them, and I want to give you and Roy everything you’ve ever wanted, and—and I want to see who Roy will become, and I want to see who he marries and what his children look like, and I want to travel the world with you and I want to be old and gray and still _here_ , but—but there isn’t enough time for that. There’s never enough time—I don’t want to go, Eliwood! I don’t want to go...”

“You don’t have to,” Eliwood responds, but they both know that’s not true. “You have time, my love, enough time for the world. I...is there anything I can do?”

“Please get me flowers,” Ninian rasps. “From...from the field of forget-me-nots. The blue ones,” she adds. “I...I always wanted to go back there, maybe when Roy was older, but...it’s the only thing I want.”

“I’ll get them,” Eliwood says. “I promise I’ll get them for you.”

“...thank you...” Ninian inhales again, and her breath quivers before she breaks into another sickening cough, followed by a sob. “I’m sorry...”

Eliwood feels himself begin to cry.

“Please don’t apologize, Ninian...”

She doesn’t even look up at him, just brings the cloth to her mouth again and closes her eyes.

 

He leaves immediately to get the flowers.

 

Somehow, when he gets there, the field seems as wilted as she is; the morning dew has already burnt away, the colors of the forget-me-nots have dulled, and even the grass itself is littered with browned petals, like a venue after a wedding, or an abandoned home after a period of great mourning.

 

He knows exactly which flowers to get, of course; the blue ones, which he’s used for...for _everything_. For their wedding bouquet, for when he brought Ninian to this place—and eventually for her funeral.

Above him, the sky mourns, too.

 

He picks the most intact flowers he can find, preserving as much of their roots as possible as she shifts them into the small pot, and once he’s satisfied with the small bundle he’s planted, he shields it from the rain and heads back.

 

When he returns, Rebecca is sitting outside, watching Roy and Wolt; Wolt is trying to cheer Roy up, Eliwood realizes, but Roy seems uninterested. He greets her hastily.

“Ah, Lord Eliwood—Roy was upset by...you know...so I brought him out here. I hope that’s alright,” Rebecca says, and Eliwood nods. He can tell she’s reading his face. Rebecca has always been good at that.

“Yes, that’s fine. Thank you, Rebecca.”

“Of course. Any time, Lord Eliwood.”

Eliwood heads past them inside, but stops when he hears Roy’s voice calling after him.

“Papa?”

“Yes, Roy?”

“...is Mama okay?”

Eliwood bites his lip and sucks in a breath. He turns around and picks up Roy, bringing him in for a tight hug, and hopes his son doesn’t notice the tears on his father’s cheeks.

“Mama loves you very much, Roy.”

Roy doesn’t say anything after that, and neither does Eliwood. He sets his son down and continues in.

 

“Ninian?”

Eliwood’s voice bounces off of the door as he knocks on it, and he hears a weak “come in” from within. When he enters, he’s relieved to see that Ninian, even though she’s no longer sitting up, seems to be doing better than earlier; Lowen must have taken away the cloth and had one of the maids help clean her up, as he doesn’t see the cloth anymore, and her mouth is no longer tinged with red. Whatever episode had come up earlier seems to have gone away for now, and he takes solace in that fact.

“Hi,” he says softly, leaning over to kiss her forehead. She doesn’t feel feverish at the moment, which is good. She smiles at his touch, and her hand reaches out and grazes his arm.

“...did you get them?”

“I did,” he responds. “I think the flowers are going to stop blooming soon, given how close to winter it’s getting, but I managed to get some of the blue ones—your favorite,” he adds.

“Thank you, Eliwood.” She turns her head to look at them as Eliwood sets them down, and then slowly pushes herself up back into a sitting position when Eliwood places himself at the foot of her bed, hunched over and messing with his hands in deep thought. “...are you familiar with the language of flowers, my lord?”

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m not.”

“Forget-me-nots...it’s ironic that you picked these flowers for my bouquet, so many years ago. I can’t remember all of the meanings, but I believe...they represent true and undying love, growing affection between two people, a connection that lasts through time, and loyalty despite challenges...” Ninian shuts her eyes.

“What’s ironic about that?”

“The other meanings—” Ninian cuts herself off. “I...never mind. The illness must have just gotten to my head. You know how things are.”

Eliwood doesn’t believe her, and he’s sure she knows that, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I love you, Ninian.”

“I love you too, Eliwood.”

He scoots closer and takes her hands in his, feeling the same warmth they’ve always had, and leans over to kiss her on the lips for what feels like the first time in forever.

 

She immediately leans into it, finding the same depth that they did when they were young, when none of this was a concern; he gently places his hands on her waist with a simultaneous softness yet firmness, as if he doesn’t want to hurt her but at the same time he’s afraid that she might wither away if he lets go. Years of time spent together collect themselves in that moment, that one perfect connection, and when they pull away, for a moment, she seems healthy again, and he has faith that things might return to the way they once were...

...and then the glow fades, and things return to the way they are, and he knows they’ll stay like that.

Still, a light blush manifests on her cheeks, and she gives him the first real smile he’s seen from her in months.

“You make me feel young again, my lord,” she says with a wavering laugh. “Thank you for retrieving the flowers. I love them.”

“Of course, Ninian. Anything for you.”

He runs a hand through her hair and kisses her on the cheek before leaving, and although she won’t get better, the world seems slightly more hopeful for the next year to come.

 

“Eliwood,” she says, after she’s certain he’s long-gone and far out of earshot, “the other meanings...forget-me-nots also stand for caring for the needing, reminders of your favorite memories with someone, and remembrance during partings or after death.”

 

She inhales.

One year.

She exhales, and her breath crackles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last chapter before the BIG angst


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quickly, before this chapter starts, i want to thank everyone for the support ive received on this fic!! it's truly overwhelming and it makes me so happy to know that people have enjoyed this fic so much ;; i also would like to dedicate this chapter to both my ate (love you!!) and ao3 reader no !!
> 
> good luck

Eliwood has always been sickly.

 

Over time, he grew out of it, to a certain extent—he needed to train twice as hard and twice as long, and rest for three times that, but still, he refused to fall behind. Not when he had people like Hector to compete with.

He was, and is, determined not to be a burden, and so he _made_ himself grow out of it. Incompetence is something he _hates_ , and he’s always been determined not to be the best, but not to be the one that falls behind. Not to be the one who feels inferior because they could not do what others could.

 

And yet, sitting at the floor beside his bed, watching his wife die in his arms, he has never felt so disgustingly incompetent in his entire life.

He couldn’t change a thing, no matter how he tried.

 

“How long do you have?” he asks, tears warping his voice. It’s so early in the morning that the sun isn’t even up yet, and their room is illuminated by a single candle, placed right next to the pot of forget-me-nots, blooming once again before a summer that Ninian will not get to see.

“Hours,” she rasps, followed by the same suffocating, hacking cough that had awoken Eliwood just half an hour earlier.

He’s only been awake for half an hour, and he’s already sobbing so hard it feels like his chest is going to collapse in on itself.

 

-

 

_She hears a man’s voice calling, “where is the girl?” and the hope that her journey does not end here finds itself reignited within her soul. Although she’s growing faint, she turns to see who it is, and he is absolutely striking._

 

_A man—barely one, one who looks like he’s still just caught on the tail end of boyhood—running after the bandits with a striking speed for someone of his height, dressed in navy blue noble clothing with a sweeping cape behind him. Still, nothing about that is the most eye-catching thing about him—what is is either his electrifyingly blue eyes, or his flame-red hair._

_Ah, yes. The prototypical child of flame._

_One who she, a dragon, a child of ice, should have no involvement with._

 

_And yet, although she’s spent over eight hundred years on Elibe, something about this particular child of flame catches her eye, and her heart flutters._

_This one is a hero, she senses. This one will change the world._

 

_Before she knows it, the child of flame has defeated the bandits, and she is on her knees on the ground, still in a daze._

_“Can you walk, my lady?” he asks, a bashful smile tracing its way across his lips. She tries to stand, but finds that her legs are still shaky from shock._

_“I’m afraid not, my lord. I apologize.”_

_“Please don’t worry about it,” he says. “My name is Eliwood. I’m Marquess Pherae’s son. You’re safe now.”_

 

_He scoops her up in his arms, and she finally submits to the faintness moments later, but in all of her time on Elibe, his arms are the warmest thing she has ever known._

 

_-_

 

“I remember when we first met,” Ninian says softly. Eliwood looks up at her. “You were...you were so warm, Eliwood.”

Ninian is cold. He can already feel the warmth pulling away from her body—do dragons lose their warmth this early? That’s so early, _too_ early—will she be like ice by the time she’s gone?—and he wants to kiss her, wants to pray that everything will be alright, but alright was a long time ago.

What will he do, when she’s gone? Can he really be a father to Roy without her? She’s been his everything for as long as he’s known her—his connection to his father, his love, his _wife_ —and here she is, slipping from his grasp in a way that is impossible to undo.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by a pained gasp from Ninian, clutching a hand over her heart.

“Eliwood, it _hurts_ —make it stop, _please_ —”

“I’m sorry” is all he can say, over and over again, as he watches her writhe in agony, and he can do nothing. After some time, she stops thrashing, just twitching and shaking, but not because the pain has gone away—she just simply doesn’t have enough energy left to move that much.

“...please make it stop...” she whimpers, and there are tears sliding off of her face onto the pillow, and all Eliwood can do is squeeze her hand and simply be there.

It’s enough, it’s all he can do, he knows, but gods, it’s his own form of hell watching her go through this. She lets out a pained cry as she convulses again, and Eliwood shuts his eyes and hopes that whatever lies beyond will be more merciful to her than it is now.

“You were so warm—” she says in between sobs, “—and you are, but I can’t feel it—I can’t feel _anything_ except how much it hurts—”

Suddenly, the pain stops, and she falls back, gasping for breath, but it’s all too clear her lungs are rejecting whatever air she can get.

“Please don’t remember me like this,” she begs, shutting her eyes. “I don’t want to be remembered like this, like this miserable creature that I am...”

“You’re not miserable,” he responds quietly. “Ninian, in all of the years I’ve known you, you’ve never been miserable, and you’re not a creature, you’re a _person_ , and I love you, and I’ll remember you for who you are—”

“I’m this,” she says, weakly gesturing to herself with a shaky hand. “I’m a monster, and I’m dying, and you wasted your time and your energy by devoting so much to me—”

“I didn’t waste my time! I—”

“ _I’m dying, Eliwood!_ ”

They both fall silent.

“I’m sorry,” she says after a beat, and her eyes are red-rimmed with tears, the only thing on her face that isn’t ghost-white. “...but it’s true. I’m dying. I’m going to die. I—I shouldn’t have been so selfish. You could have picked anyone, and they would have lived a long, fulfilled life with you, but I was selfish and told you I loved you, and now...you won’t have a wife, you’ll have a motherless child and an empty space in your bed. I’m so sorry...”

“Any time I had with you is worth more than anything else would have been,” he says, and she looks at him, a mixture of mortification and love in her eyes. “Please, if it’s the only thing you can do, please believe me when I say that.”

She doesn’t take her eyes off of him.

Her eyes, red: the color of flame, of warmth, of Eliwood’s hair, of love.

His eyes, blue: the color of ice, of coldness, of Ninian’s hair, of forget-me-nots and unbearable sorrow.

A realization they both have, have had for a long time now, suddenly surfacing in both at once: red and blue—incompatible colors to match with incompatible lives, a combination of things destined to only lead to lavender fantasies and lilac miseries.

 

“You weren’t supposed to die so early,” Eliwood says, taking her hand and resting his forehead against it. She can feel the metal of his circlet on the back of her hand. “You were—you were supposed to live a long life, and I’ve taken that from you,” he continues, tears leaking down his cheeks. “I’ll never forgive myself for this, Ninian. This is my fault, and that will never leave me.”

She doesn’t respond, only lets out a breath and stares at the ceiling, hoping whatever warmth is in her hand will be enough to sustain Eliwood for the rest of his life.

 

-

 

_Eliwood brings her to the rooftops of Castle Pherae at sunset, when the sun is just above the horizon, the sky turning a gradient of blazing red to silent black. Behind them, stars twinkle in the sky; in front of them, the sun faces its final hours._

_The red of the sky matches his hair, she thinks, and she smiles._

_“Why did you bring me up here, my lord?”_

_“I—”_

_Eliwood bites his lip and looks away, something she’s noticed he does when he’s nervous. A nervous tick, he would call it. He’s been skittish like this all day._

_“Lord Eliwood?”_

_“S-sorry! Just...just give me a second.”_

_He inhales, and then exhales, and Ninian smiles. He’s cute._

_“N-Ninian, I love you,” he begins, voice quivering. “I’ve loved you from the moment I set eyes on you, and every day in your presence has been a delight to me. I don’t know why you picked me—there are thousands of men out there more attractive, healthier, stronger—and yet I’ve never had a day in my life where I haven’t thanked every god and saint I can name that you did. We’ve had one million eternities in all of our time together, and I would give my everything for one million more.”_

_It’s when he says this that she finally makes the connection between Lyn and Hector’s spontaneous conversations about how Elibian marriage proposals work, and Eliwood’s speech. His face is bright red, even to the tips of his ears, as he drops onto one knee, pulling a ring out of his pocket._

_“It’s no Ninis’ Grace, but—we can make it something even more meaningful. Ninian, will you marry me?”_

_Ninian claps her hands over her mouth. She can feel happy tears welling up in her eyes._

 

_This kind of warmth, the kind of warmth the child of flame could offer her, is the only warmth she ever wants to experience for the rest of her life._

_“Yes,” she breathes, and she throws herself into his arms and into the most meaningful kiss of her life, deep and rich and picture-perfect, and around them, the twilit sky dips into night as if the moon itself blessed them, and Eliwood wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her ever so slightly, and it’s perfect._

 

_This is the only thing she’s ever wanted, and it’s better than anything she could imagine._

 

_She’s wrong about it being the most meaningful kiss, of course; the most meaningful kiss is when she is in a stunning white gown and with a bouquet of gorgeous blue forget-me-nots in hand, placed right after two “I do”s and the gentle yet confident sweeping back of her veil. That kiss defines her live in a way that she’s only ever read about in storybooks, and when he pulls away, they smile, and Lycia smiles with them._

_Him, the child of flame, the hero, her husband._

 

-

 

They find themselves in a silence that Eliwood later wishes never occurred, but it had been time that was just spent within each other’s company—time that they would never get back, but certainly not time wasted. Both of their breaths are wavering, uncertain, still wracked from crying, but their eyes have dried somewhat.

“...how long do you have?” he asks again.

Without hesitation, she responds “minutes”, and Eliwood, gently, passionately, desperately reaches a hand to her cheek and kisses her.

She tastes like sweetness and blood, speckled with death.

“I don’t want to go,” she says suddenly as Eliwood pulls away. “I want—I want that, every day, forever, but this is the last day.”

Eliwood doesn’t respond, just kisses her again, as if, like in the storybooks, that will magically wake her up and bring her back to life.

It doesn’t work.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“One day, when Roy is old enough, please...please explain everything to him.”

“Everything?”

Ninian gazes at him softly.

“Tell him about you. Tell him about us. Tell him about how his father is the finest knight in Lycia, and how he saved the world. Tell him about all the good you did for everyone. Tell him about all of your sacrifices. Don’t let your time with him go to waste,” she adds, as if her final minutes have brought a striking wisdom to her.

Eliwood would not be surprised if they did.

“I’ll tell him about you, Ninian,” he responds, and he kisses her forehead.

Feverish.

“I’ll tell him about his mother, the finest dancer in the world, and how she gave his father hope. I’ll tell him about how she taught his father to love, and how much she sacrificed, and how she loved him with every fiber of her being.”

“...Eliwood...please don’t let Roy remember me like this.”

Eliwood stops. The sweetness of the moment comes crashing down around him, and he is returned to reality, every passing second counting down to the moment where he’ll be alone, this time for good. No Bramimond can save her this time.

“...what?”

“I wanted—I wanted to be a good mother to him, Eliwood,” she says. “Do you know how much I would have given to see our son grow up? To be able to look him in the eyes, not as a toddler, not as a child, but as a man, and see the living culmination of...of everything we’ve done?” Suddenly, bitterness enters her voice, like a fast-acting poison. “Imagine...he would be so disappointed if he found out his mother was...was me, like this. I’m abandoning him by doing this, Eliwood, the same way my father did to me.” Her breath catches. “I’m no better than Nergal.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m not,” she spits, and suddenly, she’s crying again.

“ _Please_ , Ninian, don’t say that.” Her last minutes will not be peaceful ones if she continues like this, Eliwood thinks, but he doesn’t bring it up.

“I’m abandoning him, because I couldn’t evade fate, and my life—my son’s happiness—it’s all being taken away from me. I’ll die here and my son will grow up without a mother, and my husband will grow old without a wife, and Lycia without a marchioness, and the only thing I’ll leave behind is pain and pain and more pain.”

“Any pain you bring will never outweigh the goodness you’ve brought, my love,” Eliwood murmurs, but right now, the pain in his heart far outweighs the sweetness of his words, and Ninian knows that.

“I just want to spend...spend one human lifetime with you. I’ve lived for so long, I don’t understand why I can’t have just...just sixty more years, that’s all I want—why did it have to be me, Eliwood? What have I done wrong? I came so quickly and I’m going so fast, but all I wanted was just...just one human life—what did I do to deserve this? What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Eliwood answers between sobs, because he knows the truth.

Ninian did not do anything wrong.

No, it was him who committed the crimes, the atrocities, the deaths; it was Eliwood who lead the war and Eliwood who killed her the first time and Eliwood who’s killing her the second time, all because he was not selfless enough to send her to back to her world, because he loved her. It was Eliwood who did wrong, but it is not Eliwood who dies, and that’s the worst part. Ninian is yet another person who is falling by Eliwood’s hand. She did nothing wrong, but he did, and she is paying the price.

The ultimate price.

Ninian did not do anything wrong, but Eliwood did _everything_ wrong.

“He deserves better. _You_ deserve better.”

“I don’t want better,” Eliwood says, his voice cracking. He doesn’t deserve better. He deserves the worst that fate can throw at him—but really, can fate throw anything at him that’s worse than this?—but Ninian deserves a long life with someone who can love her without killing her, who can be with her without being her end.

He deserves to die, he thinks, and he would do it in a heartbeat if it would allow Ninian the rest of her life—the life he stole from her.

He doesn’t want to cry again, but here he is, crying.

He doesn’t want to mourn Ninian again, but here she is, dying.

“...I want _you_.” His voice is a quiet, hopeless plea. Ninian exhales and bursts into a horrific coughing fit, her lungs freezing for a moment, before it subsides, but as it leaves, a trail of blood exits the corner of her mouth along with it.

“This is me, my lord,” she whispers back, her voice shaking with rage, with sorrow, with longing to just be alive, to just live one more day. “I’m no better than Nergal. I caused that atrocity to happen—I came into this world only inviting regret and sorrow and awfulness—and that’s how I’m going out, I suppose. How fitting, that a dragon should die a horrific death such as this. I’m a curse.”

“Ninian, _please_ —”

“...I’m sorry, Eliwood,” she says after a beat. “Gods, I’m so sorry.”

 

-

 

_She’d been sick for weeks, and Eliwood was terrified—throwing up that often? That nauseous, always?—so when they had finally brought her to the healer, he had been a ball of anxiety, waiting desperately for the results to come back and praying she didn’t have anything serious._

 

 _She steps out of the room with a surprising smile on her face, and that familiar glow that it had seemed like she lost before has only become brightened by her happiness. Eliwood looks up._ _  
_ _“Are you okay?” is the first words out of his mouth. Ninian nods._

_“Ah, Eliwood, y-you—you may want to tell Hector that...ah...he can expect an heir soon...”_

 

_It takes a moment for it to click, but when it does, Eliwood is immediately on his feet, with the widest grin on his face that she’s ever seen._

_“You’re—?”_

_“Yes,” she breathes, and he picks her up and spins her around, both of them laughing._

_“I can’t believe it,” he whispers excitedly, and she can see so much hope and excitement and just pure love in the beautiful blues of his eyes. “I’m going to be a father. Wow. Ninian, we’re going to be parents!”_

_“I know!” she responds, just as excited as he is. “Can you imagine? Us—our child.”_

_Eliwood sniffles, and she grins. “You’re so emotional, my lord.”_

_“I’m just excited,” he says, laughing again. “Ninian, I’m so lucky to have you, and to have our child, and everything, and you’ve been nothing but a blessing to me for...for forever, and you always will be. I love you,” he says, littering her cheek with fast kisses, and she giggles that beautiful sunshine laugh, and he smiles, and the moment is perfect._

_And for once, she is warm, and for once, he isn’t stressed, and for once, the moment doesn’t fade away, and for once, life itself is perfect._

-

 

“How long do you have?” he asks.

“Seconds,” she responds.

“I love you so much, Ninian.”

“I love you too, Lord Eliwood. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Please don’t go,” he says, but she is already gone.

 

Beside them, just as Ninian foresaw, the forget-me-nots bloom in all of their glory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not the end of the fic !! there will be more chapters, which are roy and eliwood centric, but still with elinini.
> 
> thank you all so much for the support !! please let me know if you cried haha


	8. Chapter 8

Roy wakes up to the sound of his father sobbing and screaming his mother’s name.

 

He finds his way to his parent’s room through the darkness, rubbing at his eyes—it’s so early, why is Papa awake?—and pushes the door open, just enough for him to peek through.

The first thing that catches his eye are the forget-me-nots. He hasn’t really noticed them before.

“Ninian, please wake up—” his father begs, “—please don’t leave me alone—”

“...Papa?” Roy wanders over to his father, ever the image of knightliness and nobility, and rests his head on the back of his shoulders, broad and regal and heaving with sobs.

He feels his father take in a sharp, staggered inhale, before attempting to collect himself.

“A-ah, Roy,” he says quietly, his breath catching on itself, “you shouldn’t be awake.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he responds, although he can feel drowsiness tugging him back to his bed as he continues to lean on his father’s back. He’s so warm. “...I wanted to check on Mama, too.”

“Oh, Roy...”

Roy pulls himself off of his father’s back and moves over to the head of the bed, and he immediately knows something is wrong.

Beside him, Eliwood hunches over further and buries his head in his hands, and his sobs echo throughout the room.

 

“Mama...?”

In the time he’s been old enough to be aware of his surroundings, Roy has only ever known his mother as sick, but right now, she seems paler than she’s ever been.

Perhaps it’s the light, he thinks, reaching over to place a hand on her shoulder to nudge her awake.

Eliwood raises his head and sees his son moving towards Ninian, and immediately winces.

“Roy, don’t—”

It’s too late. By the time the words escape Eliwood’s mouth, Roy already feels it.

The unnatural, chilling cold emanating from his mother’s skin.

“Mama—”

He places his other hand on her shoulder and tries to shake her, but she doesn’t stir, not even a little.

“Mama?” he whispers, and Eliwood chokes back another sob as Roy turns to him, staring at him with those big blue eyes, filled with worry and sorrow.

Ninian’s eyes.

“Why is Mama so cold, Papa?”

Eliwood doesn’t respond, only pulls his son into a tight hug, and Roy can feel the quivering of his chest as he cries. Over his shoulder, he sticks out his hand to try and touch his mother again, to make sure the cold he felt was real, to—

“Papa, why won’t Mama wake up?”

“R-Roy,  I—” Eliwood pauses again, another heaving sob wracking his frame. It’s the first time Roy has ever seen his father as anything aside from a mighty, regal figure—in the somber darkness of the room, with the moonlight just illuminating his silhouette, Eliwood looks so...small. “Papa failed you, Roy,” he breathes. “...I failed.”

Roy just looks up at him with those eyes again, and Eliwood breaks—blue, yes, but round like Ninian’s, and with that same soulful innocence yet deep understanding. The only reminder of Ninian that he has left.

“Mama’s not waking up, Roy,” he adds quietly.

Roy doesn’t understand.

“Tonight?”

“Ever.”

“M-Mama—”

Roy reaches for her again, and Eliwood just holds him tighter, and the warmth that was once a kind effort now feels suffocating, and he _doesn’t understand_.

“Mama— _Mama!_ ”

 

“I’m sorry” escapes from Eliwood’s mouth over and over again to Roy as he screams for Ninian, and the pain just gets worse and worse, because no amount of apologies can ever make up for what he’s done. His son is motherless, he is wifeless, and he can’t be everything Roy needs, much less...much less merely a father. He feels Roy start to sob against his shoulder, and he shifts position, cradling him instead of holding him back, and he kisses Roy on the forehead, trying to make up for all of the things he’s lost.

“Roy—Ninian, your mother—loved you so, so much...”

Roy stops screaming for his mother, merely listens and sobs as his father relays the tale he’s heard one million times, but somehow didn’t process until now, and he still doesn’t understand, just knows that Mama is not waking up now, not tomorrow, not _ever_.

It must be his fault, he thinks, but he doesn’t say anything. He can still feel Eliwood’s sobs through his chest as he speaks, a broken baritone whimper, and even though he’s so young—four, an age he would later look back upon wishing that he had not experienced so much loss, so much sorrow at such a young age, but also being thankful that Eliwood never gave up or ran away from him, like he so easily could’ve—even though he’s so young, he swears to himself that the day he lets anything happen to Papa is the day he himself no longer wakes up.

 

Lowen and Rebecca hear the sobbing from both father and son and peer into the open doorway, and what they see is not Lord Eliwood and Master Roy, but a child broken too young and a man desperately trying to already be both father and mother, but so lost and alone that he is unable to be either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ll be on vacation with my family until the 10th, so updates probably/will not happen until then. however, updates will resume immediately when i get back !! thank you so much for the support!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we ended up coming back from vacation a day early, so here's the next chapter !! i thought a lot about this fic in my free time, so the chapters are gonna keep on rolling!
> 
> this started with the intention of being angsty but it ended up being not as much oops haha
> 
> alternate name for this chapter: eliwood suffering, ft. hector and lyn and more tiny roy
> 
> (also background heclyn, but it's really not relevant)

“Oh, Eliwood,” Lyn breathes, launching into a hug as Hector drags their luggage in behind them. “We came as soon as we heard. I’m so sorry.”

“...thank you,” he responds quietly, and although he towers a good half a head over her, he dips his head until his forehead rests against the top of her shoulder. “Castle Pherae is greater for your presence.”

“There’s no need to be so formal,” Hector says as he brings in the last of their things. As soon as Lyn lets go, he also gives Eliwood a hug, although it’s significantly gentler than others the Ostian marquess has given him in the past, carrying a deeper meaning behind it than just a reunion of friends.

Eliwood appreciates it.

 

“How’ve you been doing?” Hector asks, as soon as they’ve gotten settled in. Eliwood is having them stay in one of Castle Pherae’s many guest rooms; although he always considered the castle to be far too big, it’s never felt quite so...empty, before.

He hadn’t realized that Ninian was really what brought Castle Pherae to life.

Still, it becomes less like an estate and more like a _home_ with Hector and Lyn in it; they didn’t bring their young daughter, Lilina, who is too young to understand such a grave situation, instead opting to leave her at home with Matthew and Kent, as well as a couple other of the Ostian royals’ retainers that didn’t accompany them on the trip.

Eliwood takes a deep breath and lets out a quiet, wheezy exhale. They don’t need to ask, because he’s certain they already know; if his depressed mood wasn’t a clear enough answer, the bags under his eyes and his increasingly thin frame are. He’s never been the healthiest person, but he looks absolutely ragged.

“I want to say I’ve been doing okay, but in truth, it’s been hell,” Eliwood says softly, leaning back further into the couch. Beside him, Lyn extends a gentle hand and rubs his shoulder for a second. “I— _we_ , I suppose—we always knew she didn’t have that much time, but...it came...it felt like it came so suddenly. One moment, we were happy, the next moment, she couldn’t get up from bed, and the moment after that, she was gone.”

“Eliwood...” Hector’s voice, for once, is sympathetic, and he doesn’t have any rash comments to  make. He understands, after all. One doesn’t lose both of their parents as well as their brother to not have empathy in times like these.

“And Roy hasn’t been taking it too well, either, obviously. He’s...he’s four. He shouldn’t have to deal with something like this, and yet...” Eliwood sighs again, and every time, it’s almost as if the lines in his face grow deeper and sharper. For someone so young, he looks so old. “I’m trying to be both mother and father here, because that’s what he needs, but I can’t be,” he adds quietly. “I feel like such a failure.”

“You’re not a failure,” Hector says. “You’re trying your best. It’s not easy.”

“It’s not,” Eliwood agrees, “but my best isn’t good enough. Roy is...sometimes, I feel like Marcus is more of a father to him than I am.”

“It’s okay if you need someone else to step in,” Hector interjects quietly. “After our parents died, Uther didn’t raise me alone—‘it takes a village’, or whatever they say. I think every retainer we had stepped in, even Matthew.”

Eliwood musters a smile at that. Matthew’s always been good with kids.

He pauses again, just taking in the air of the moment. It’s been so long since he’s just been able to sit down with his friends, or to relax at all, that even melancholy moments like these feel like a breath of fresh air. He doesn’t know how many days it’s been since he’s seen someone that wasn’t Roy or a castle staff.

“...are you staying for the funeral?” he asks, after a couple moments of tense silence.

“Of course,” the two of them respond.

Sacaen still colors Lyn’s tongue, and Hector’s thick Ostian vowels are just as harsh as they were before.

Eliwood thinks it’s good that some things never change, at least.

 

Actually, a lot of things with the two of them never changed; despite Lyn being the new marchioness of Ostia, she still wears her Sacaen garb proudly, ignoring the bigotry of the other nobles, and if that doesn’t shut them up, a mean glare from Hector and a casual flex of his massive biceps certainly does. They still bicker with each other just as much, which makes Eliwood smile more than he’s done in months, although the expression still feels a tinge unnatural on him; it’s been so long since he’s _genuinely_ done so, as opposed to just throwing on a facade for Roy whenever he wakes up from a nightmare.

“Speaking of Roy,” Hector interjects after a short discussion, “where is he?”

“Ah, hm...probably with Lowen and Rebecca,” Eliwood says. He signals for one of the watching retainers to go find him. “He’ll be here in a bit. He’s a very kind boy. You’ll like him.”

“As long as he doesn’t steal Lilina away,” Hector says, followed by his great laugh. It’s been too long since Eliwood’s heard that.

“I doubt that’ll happen until you grow in your great beard,” Eliwood responds lightheartedly.

Lyn jumps in as well, and it’s like the three of them are teenagers again, even though it’s been what, nine years since the war ended?

 

When Lowen and Rebecca finally bring Roy to the living room, Roy sees his father genuinely laughing and smiling for the first time in months.

 

“Ah, Roy!” Eliwood greets him with brighter eyes than the child has seen in a while.

“Yes, Father?”

Hector and Lyn meet eyes and exchange a glance.

“Come meet your father’s friends,” he says, leaning down. “This is Uncle Hector and Aunt Lyndis. We all traveled together back then, alongside your mother.”

Roy is a little shy, but Eliwood can see in Hector and Lyn’s eyes that they find it endearing.

(Well, more Lyn than Hector, but that can’t be helped, he thinks.)

“Hey there, Roy!” Lyn greets him, and Roy steps out a little more and waves back. Lyn looks up at Eliwood with sparkling eyes. “Eliwood, he’s _so cute_. He looks just like you!”

“You think so?” Eliwood says, watching Roy stumble over to Lyn and look up at Hector, who waves back and affectionately ruffles Roy’s hair.

“C’mon, that red hair? You can’t miss it,” she says. “He has—” Lyn then stops herself, giving the look of a wounded animal to Eliwood for a second, before mumbling an apology under her breath.

“Lyndis?”

“He has...he has Ninian’s eyes.”

“Ah, that,” Eliwood says. It stings, to hear someone else say that when Ninian is no longer here, but it’s true; aside from the color, they look exactly like Ninian’s. “He does. It...it hurts, but it’s a reminder that she was here.”

“That it is,” Lyn responds quietly.

There’s another brief silence before Hector brings up the question that’s been sitting in his and Lyn’s minds since Roy first entered the room.

“Eliwood,” he says, using that tone of voice that he only uses when he’s carefully picking his words—a rare occurrence for Hector, Eliwood thinks, but one nonetheless. “...Roy called you ‘father’ earlier?”

Eliwood hums in agreement. Hector and Lyn exchange another look, and the axe lord piques an eyebrow at their old friend.

“Isn’t that, I dunno, a little—a little formal, for a four year old? Shouldn’t he be calling you... ‘papa’, or ‘dad’, or something like that? Something less...estranged?”

“He used to,” Eliwood says quietly. “...it’s only been ‘father’ since Ninian passed.”

Hector closes his mouth and looks down, and he doesn’t say another word.

 

The three of them sit and play with Roy for the rest of the evening, littering his playtime with support for Eliwood and occasionally, mentions of Lilina, and the next couple of days are peaceful while the Ostians stay, but it all comes crashing down at her funeral.

 

It has to happen eventually, he knows it does, but he doesn’t want it to; it feels like...a funeral feels like goodbye, and part of him still doesn’t want to admit she’s gone.

He does the funeral the Pheraen way, a quiet goodbye to a life anything but. There are no speeches or anything like that—they hold it open casket, and later, they’ll bury her, and mark her grave.

Eliwood plans to bury her in the flower field. It’s what she would’ve wanted.

 

Still, looking at her before they close the casket for good, she looks...she looks almost alive. She is just as beautiful as he remembers her, but there isn’t even the slightest flush beneath her skin, so she’s ghostly white; her face is graced by a permanent peaceful expression, although in the end, her last days were anything but.

Eliwood wants to run his fingers along her cheek one last time, but stops himself. There’s no warmth beneath her skin, he knows that—he doesn’t need to feel her like this, cold and rigid. It’s best to leave her touch in his memory the way it was when she was alive, he thinks. He doesn’t need that ruined for him.

Gods, he misses her. He would give anything to bring her back. He lived every moment with her to the fullest, but he still regrets not treasuring them more—he just kept telling himself over and over and over again that they had one more day, and that would be enough, until they didn’t have one more day, and...

It wasn’t enough.

It could never be enough.

The only thing that could ever be enough is if she somehow comes back, but that won’t happen this time.

 

He gives a silent prayer to Saint Elimine and any other deities or gods he can think of before he himself closes the casket, being the last visitor. Lyn and Hector stand outside, making sure no one else comes in, and both of them do a quiet check on him as he walks out. He’s been so stoic this entire time, hasn’t cried once, but they both know how much he loved—how much he _still_ loves Ninian, and something has to go. Both of them know that.

The same way something went with Elbert, it will go with Ninian. He can’t hold himself like this forever.

 

It happens on the way back, when Hector and Lyn are walking on either side of him and Roy is making solemn pace in front, that Hector rests a large hand on Eliwood’s shoulder and hears, without a doubt, a small sniffle.

Hearing it, Lyn makes eye contact with Hector and nods, and she speeds in front to distract Roy for a second until Rebecca arrives and shoos him inside, whereupon she quickly returns to Eliwood’s side. He’s stopped, resting outside of the house against the wall with Hector by his side, gently rubbing his back, and as she approaches, she can finally see the tears streaking his face.

“—I can’t,” is what she hears when she gets close enough. “Hector, I loved her so much, a-and—and she’s gone,” he whispers through sobs. “I’m such a mess without her. I can’t raise a son like this, much less lead Pherae. What do the people think, watching their reigning lord bawling like—like a _child_?” he spits, venom lacing his tone, but all of it is directed at himself.

“You’re allowed to mourn,” Hector reminds him, but Eliwood shakes his head, taking in a pained hiccup. He leans forward.

“I have a state to lead, and here I am, struggling with a loss that I saw coming from the start,” he mutters, still choking on his words. “My father, N-Ninian—they would be so disappointed in me.”

Both of them can see Eliwood working himself into a tizzy, and his words grow more extreme, his state more panicked.

“I couldn’t avoid it. I couldn’t save my father, and I couldn’t save Ninian, and gods forbid if something happens to Roy, I won’t be able to save him, either—”

“Nothing’s going to happen to Roy, Eliwood—”

“—and I was the one who stole her life away! I killed her, because I was so selfish that I wanted her here, instead of choosing to let her go—”

“—she wanted to be here—”

Eliwood pauses, then, and looks at Hector and Lyn with more wild fear in his eyes than they’ve ever seen.

“...what if Roy can’t handle being in this world, either?”

They both pause. “...what?”

“He’s her son,” Eliwood says, staring at the ground and knotting his hands in his hair. The tears are rolling down his face faster now, and he draws his knees up until he’s almost curled in on himself, making himself sick with stress. “If her body couldn’t handle this, can his? Is he going to die, too?” He looks up at them, so much pain showing in his eyes, and lets out a pained exhale. “I love him more than anything in the world. I-I...I can’t lose him too!”

That thought is what finally breaks the pegasus’ back, Hector and Lyn would think, looking back on that night later, causing Eliwood to lean forward and dry-heave from anxiety-laden nausea. Hector especially knows how prone to sickness Eliwood is, whether he’s actually diseased or not—Eliwood, being so light, and having lost as much weight as he is, is scooped into Hector’s arms easily enough, and he rushes upstairs with Lyn right behind him, and quickly deposits Eliwood in his bed. He’s stopped talking, but his eyes are glazed over, and his forehead is beaded with either sweat or rain, possibly both; Lyn rests one hand on Eliwood’s forehead and the other on Hector’s, and immediately frowns.

“He’s feverish,” she comments, watching Eliwood shut his eyes. “I knew it wasn’t just stress. I doubt he’s been taking care of himself at all.”

“Knowing Eliwood, it wouldn’t surprise me,” Hector comments. “I brought some vulneraries along, thankfully, so we can switch watch overnight, and we can probably stay until he recovers. I think Oswin has everything covered at the castle.”

“I believe so,” Lyn confirms. “I’ll take first watch. Maybe we can have Priscilla come in later, too, if he doesn’t get any better.”

Hector lets out a concerned sigh. “I’m worried for him. All these years, and he’s still not that hardy,” he comments softly. “He’ll work himself to death. I don’t think he’s truly sick, more like just spent all of his energy, but...poor Eliwood, eh? I can’t imagine having to be a father through all this, especially when Roy is so young.”

“Mm. Neither can I.”

Hector pulls Lyn into a soft embrace for a moment before they place themselves down on the floor beside Eliwood’s bed, sorting whatever healing items they’ve brought with them, no matter how small. Neither of them sleep.

After a couple hours, they hear an exhausted groan from behind them, and both of them turn to see Eliwood finally coming to.

“Eliwood!” Lyn is the first one up, doing another fever check, and she turns back to Hector with a relieved look in her eyes. “He’s doing better.”

“...Lyn? Hector?”

“We’re here,” Hector says, and Eliwood smiles, but it’s quickly replaced by a grimace.

“...I’m sorry. I panicked irrationally earlier.” He purses his lips for a second, silent. “...I must have worried you. I don’t intend to impose, especially when you’ve come all this way.”

“We know how you are, Eliwood,” Hector chirps, and Eliwood glances at him, blue eyes both questioning and vaguely suspicious at the same time. It’s a look he’s grown familiar with over the years, and he stifles a laugh. “You’ve always been like this. ‘Don’t want to impose’ this, ‘don’t want to be a burden’ that. We’re your friends. We’re here for you, because that’s what friends do. We’ll take care of you.”

Eliwood lets out a breath and returns his gaze to the ceiling. “...thank you. You know me...so well,” he adds, amusement lightening his tone. “I appreciate you staying with me.”

“That’s what friends do,” Hector repeats. “We’ll watch over you for a bit, and maybe return to our quarters later. Get some sleep.”

“Thank you,” Eliwood says, and he closes his eyes. Both Lyn and Hector watch him until they’re sure he’s asleep, his breathing even, and they start to pack up their things until they hear a quiet voice at the door.

“...Father?”

It’s Roy, they know immediately. Like a little Eliwood. Hector notes that he sounds exactly like Eliwood did when they were very young.

“Your father’s asleep, but come in,” Lyn says softly. Roy comes in, holding a stuffed bunny in one hand and a small blanket in the other. “Why’re you up, little one?”

“I had a bad dream,” Roy says. “I...Father usually lets me sleep in his bed. ...he’s warm.”

Eliwood mumbles something behind them, woken up again from all of the commotion, and shifts in his bed before opening his eyes.

“...Roy?”

“...hello...”

“You shouldn’t be up,” he says, and Hector and Lyn both grin a little bit when they hear that gentle fatherliness in his voice. It’s a different tone than even the one he used for Ninian, but it’s...soft, almost. A caringness that’s somehow different than the kind he uses for everyone else. “...did you have a bad dream?”

Roy mumbles something in acquiescence.

“Come here,” Eliwood says, scooting over. The bed is pretty big, of course, meant for two adults, one of whom is Eliwood at that—and he’s tall, lanky, and takes up space. There’s more than enough for Roy. “You can sleep here tonight. I won’t let anything hurt you,” he says, watching tiredly as Roy scrambles onto the bed. “Papa’s here,” he says with a yawn. Roy works his way under the blanket, bringing the stuffed rabbit with him. Eliwood blinks at Hector and Lyn again. “Thank you, my friends,” he mumbles again.

In the darkness, Hector and Lyn must be at least a little pink.

That was really cute, they both think, but they wouldn’t admit it.

“Eliwood,” Hector says softly, “you’re a great father.”

“...you think so?”

“After watching that, I know so.”

“...thanks,” Eliwood says, and he can feel himself being tugged back to sleep.

“Get some rest, Eliwood,” Lyn says. “We’ve left some vulneraries on the table if you need it, but you should be fine with a little rest. Just don’t put so much on your shoulders, okay? You’re doing fine.”

He mumbles another “thanks”, and Lyn and Hector stand up as quietly as they can and make their way back to the guest chambers after letting Marcus know to keep watch. On the way, they quietly converse about Eliwood—he’s a great father, he really is, and he underestimates himself and how much he’s done for Roy—but quickly find themselves pulled to sleep themselves.

 

Back in Eliwood’s chambers, Roy presses himself against his father’s side, relaxing comfortably against the head that he gives off.

“Goodnight, Roy,” Eliwood says softly, right as Roy is dozing off.

“Goodnight, Papa,” he responds, and Eliwood smiles. It’s the first time he’s been called “Papa” instead of “Father” since the whole ordeal started. Maybe things will never be normal again, but that’s okay. It doesn’t have to be normal, it just has to be okay.

He feels his son relax as he finally falls asleep, and Eliwood carefully adjusts himself, placing a light kiss against Roy’s head. His son doesn’t even stir, but a light smile traces over his features for a second.

A smile just like Ninian’s.

Maybe, just maybe, Eliwood thinks, things will be okay after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS 3000 WORDS LONG JESUS CHRIST
> 
> thank you all so much for the support, once again !!


	10. Chapter 10

He brings Roy with him when he buries Ninian; Hector and Lyn are still staying in Pherae, but they decide only to go with him to help move the casket, and not to actually bury it.

No, they know that’s something that Eliwood must do on his own.

 

He finds an empty clearing around where the blue forget-me-nots grow, and, of course, it’s raining; just as he mourns, it feels like the whole world mourns with him. Everything feels devoid of color life, and he’s sure he looks the same way. In his pocket, he feels the bag of seeds that he’s brought, from the same flowers he brought to Ninian’s windowsill.

Roy cries. Quietly, not wailing, but still, the sight is heartbreaking. His son is so young, too young to have to deal with this, and yet...

 

He spends far longer than he should digging the ditch, but every further mound of earth flung out feels like another goodbye, and that’s the last thing he wants. All he wants is for her to come back.

He feels another heavy shiver trace down his spine, and then hears a sharp inhale from Hector behind him, but he wills it off. He has to finish. There’s no time for breaks.

He hears Roy’s quiet crying behind him, and briefly turns to see that Lyn has wrapped him in a hug, trying to keep him calm. He’s eternally glad that Lyn and Hector came to visit. As soon as he’s done, he’ll offer Roy a hug of his own, but for now, he has to focus on digging the ditch and not becoming ill in the process.

After he’s finished, he has to take a minute to breathe before placing the casket in; he steps out back onto solid ground with Hector’s help, and Roy immediately runs from Lyn to his father, who he hugs tightly and doesn’t move from.

Eliwood rustles Roy’s hair and bends down to hug him back. Roy sniffles.

“F-Father, I don’t want—I don’t want Mama to go—”

Ah, there it is.

Eliwood winces.

Father.

Eliwood squeezes him a little tighter, and Roy hiccups in between sobs.

“It’s okay,” Eliwood says, although his heart hurts just as much. He doesn’t want Ninian to go either, but she’s already gone. “It’s okay, Roy. Mama loves you very much.”

“Are you...” Roy pauses for a moment, and then squeezes Eliwood tighter. “...Father, will you leave too?”

“Oh, Roy...” Eliwood scoops Roy in his arms and Roy begins to cry louder, balling his fists in his father’s shirt. “I’ll never leave you. I’ll be here for as long as you need me, and even longer than that. I won’t leave.”

“P-Papa...”

He holds Roy there for a moment, for as long as his son needs to calm himself even just a little, until Roy loosens his grip and pulls himself away for a second, looking at Eliwood with a gaze that makes his heart ache, and wandering back to Lyn’s side. Lyn, too, pulls him into a hug, quickly joined by Hector, and gradually, the sobs return to sniffles, and Eliwood has his breath back.

The last step.

He has to do it.

 

He and Hector take opposite sides of the casket and gently lower it into the ditch, dropping it the last couple inches with a muffled thump. Hector gets back onto the field first, then helping Eliwood up, and Eliwood can’t help but cry when he sees the casket laid.

This is it, then—she’s truly gone, he thinks, and he lowers his head and lets out a pained sob. He scrunches his eyes and rubs at them with the back of his sleeve, desperate to not be this weak, but it doesn’t help, and the tears don’t stop—eventually, he falls to his knees and just weeps into his hands, unable to pull himself together. This isn’t what Ninian would have wanted, he knows, but it’s the only thing he can do. His heart aches for her kind words, his body aches for her gentle touch, his entire existence yearns to just fit next to hers for one more second, one more hour, one more day, one more week one more year one more _lifetime_ , but his existence resides in a turbulent body, and hers resides in a place unknown, but perhaps limited to a buried casket.

Hector and Lyn get to work at actually burying it—he’s too worn out for that, too breathless and too sore—and he places himself by Roy, pulling him into another hug.

“She loved you so, so much,” he tells him, tears thickening his voice. “You were what she thought of that night. She wanted so much for you—she wanted you to live a happy life and to not be bound by her, and to lead Pherae with more grace than either of us ever could have, and gods, all she wanted for you was to be happy.”

“I miss her,” is all Roy says in response, and Eliwood chokes back another sob.

“I miss her, too.”

 

“Eliwood, we should go,” Lyn says after catching her breath. The casket lies buried, and the earth looks almost completely undisturbed, just as grey and sorrowful as it looked before. “You’ll get sick.”

“One more thing,” Eliwood says, coughing. He can already feel the cold he’ll have to fight off over the next couple of weeks, and curses himself for not being stronger. He pushes himself up and then grabs the seeds in his pocket, ripping open the tiny bag and pouring them out into his palm. He scores the ground and then spreads the seeds, kicking the dirt back with his foot, and makes a quick prayer. “Godspeed, Ninian,” he adds quietly. “I love you.”

Hector and Lyn don’t say anything, merely look at the ground and stand in silence.

Eliwood finally gets up and picks up Roy, who’s weepy and tired and still not quite ready to let go, and presses a soft kiss to his forehead as he returns to his friends.

“Ready to go?” Lyn asks, and Eliwood nods.

“Thank you for coming with me, my friends,” he says, and Hector and Lyn nod.

They support him, of course. It’s what friends do.

 

When they return, Eliwood tucks Roy in for the night, and then returns to the living room, where Hector and Lyn teeter awkwardly.

“Um, Eliwood, we have to be getting back to Ostia soon,” Lyn murmurs quietly when he walks in. “We’ll...we’ll leave tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

Ah, yes. They have a state to run, too.

“Of course,” Eliwood responds, forcing a smile on his face. “Thank you so much for staying. I really appreciate it. Castle Pherae was greater for your presence.”  
“Please don’t be so formal about it,” Hector grumbles again. “We’ll stay longer if you need us to. The Marquess is a well known lout, and the people of Lycia love you. They’ll understand if you need more time to mourn.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he responds. “Ostia is the ruling territory of Lycia, and you need to get back to it. I understand.”

“We’ll stay if you need us to.”

“Hector, I promise it’s fine.”

Hector turns to look at him, and there’s the same intensity in his eyes as when Eliwood told him he was fine after he witnessed one of Eliwood’s truly bad sick spells as a child for the first time. He remembers that day quite clearly. He practically had to have the nurses shove Hector out of the room so he could get some rest, which wasn’t an easy job; even back then, Hector had been physically bigger than most people, and he hadn’t been the most keen on leaving his friend alone.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Eliwood, if you’re just trying not to ‘impose’ or whatever—”

“I’m _sure_ , Hector,” Eliwood says, and although his voice is tired and tense, there’s fondness behind it, too. Hector cares, and Eliwood in turn cares that he cares. “I promise I’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll recover.”

Hector still looks hesitant, but he nods anyway.

“If you need us, please don’t be afraid to send a messenger after us,” Hector says, and there’s a concerned softness in his eyes that Eliwood rarely sees. “We’ll return right away.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

Hector clears his throat and looks away awkwardly. Lyn shuffles again.

“I guess we’ll head to bed, then,” he says, and Eliwood smiles. Hector’s never been one for smooth transitions.

“Sounds like a plan,” Eliwood says. “You need rest, after all that digging and lifting I made you do today. Thank you for that.”

“No problem.”

“Goodnight, then,” Eliwood says, and he stifles a yawn. He’s more exhausted than he thought.

“Goodnight.” Hector pats his shoulder again and then turns to go to the guest chambers, Lyn following, and Eliwood can see the slump in his shoulders as he walks off. He’s more tired than Eliwood realized, although Hector’s not one to complain about that.

(“Too much is just enough for me,” he recalls Hector saying, so many years ago.)

“Goodnight, Eliwood,” Lyn calls over her shoulder.

“Goodnight, Lyndis.”

On the way back to his chambers, which still feel so cold, so empty without Ninian waiting for him, he stops by Roy’s room. His son is out cold. He wanders over to Roy, brushes already messy red hair out of his face, and kisses him on the cheek. Roy doesn’t even stir.

“Goodnight, Roy.”

 

Eliwood finally heads to his chambers and is out as soon as he hits the pillow.

In his sleep, he dreams of Ninian.

 

He bids Hector and Lyn a fond goodbye the next morning, and spends the day with Roy, who’s still a little shaken after the events of yesterday; still, his duties are being taken care of by Marcus until he’s ready to go back, and he’s tired of letting Rebecca and Lowen be more of a parent to Roy than he is.

At the end of the day, Roy falls asleep in his lap, a placid expression on his face after the most peaceful day in a while, and Eliwood brushes his hair back, and hopes that he’s getting closer to being the father that Ninian had so much faith he could be.


	11. Chapter 11

It takes time, but slowly, bit by bit, the misery passes; it is two years since Ninian’s death, Roy is older, and Eliwood finally decides now is a good time to take him to the flower fields again.

They make the trek early in the morning, while the dew is still on the flowers, and when they arrive, they see the same symphony of colors that they saw all those years again; hearing the breeze rustling through the leaves of the great oak, they can almost hear Ninian’s soft voice accompanying it, but when Eliwood strains harder to hear it, it’s gone.

“Do you remember this?” he asks softly, and Roy pauses for a moment.

“Not really,” he says, and Eliwood sighs.

“I thought you might not. Your mother and I always wanted to bring you back here.”

“This is where the flowers are from, right?” Roy asks, yawning. “...Mama is buried here.”

“We’ll visit her later,” Eliwood promises.

Roy nods.

 

Roy shifts on the blanket until he can rest his head on his father’s side, and Eliwood moves his arm and wraps it around Roy in turn. He can almost feel Ninian’s touch against his cheek—this entire scene is so reminiscent of her, it almost hurts to come back, but in a way, it’s another connection to her.

Roy closes his eyes—

Ninian’s eyes, Eliwood thinks—

and a soft exhale escapes his tiny body as he wriggles closer to his father’s ribs.

“I love you, Father,” he says, and Eliwood squeezes him gently.

“I love you too.”

They sit like that, just watching the sunrise for a bit, before Eliwood stands up and stretches, and then helps Roy up.

“Do you want to go see Mama, Roy?”

Roy nods again.

He picks him up and heads to the patch of blue forget-me-nots, where Ninian’s grave is, and they sit in front of it, an uneasy silence falling over them.

Two years since that fateful day, but in this scene, he somehow finds his memories pulled back even further, to happier memories instead of sad.

 

-

 

_ Ninian curls up on the bed and scoots back until his chest is warm against her back, and he reflexively drapes his arm over her and wraps it around her waist. Their son is asleep in her arms, and Eliwood is nearly asleep behind her, his breath soft and warm against the back of her neck. Still, he’s just awake enough to press a warm kiss against the back of her neck, and she giggles, and then feels his smile against her skin. _

_ “What was travelling like, Ninian?” he asks, and she can tell he’s thinking about something, although she doesn’t know what. _

_ “It was...pleasant,” she says, “although Nils may have enjoyed it more than I did.” _

_ Eliwood flushes for a second, his voice somewhere between amusement and mortification. _

_ “Please don’t tell Nils we’re sleeping together. I’ll never hear the end of it from him, tainting his sister,” he says, but Ninian can tell he’s only half-joking, which just makes it funnier. She giggles again, and he pulls her tighter and gives the nape of her neck another warm kiss. _

_ “I would be more concerned if Lord Hector found out, Lord Eliwood,” she jokes, and she feels Eliwood exhale. _

_ “I would really never hear the end of it from him. You have no idea how much he already jokes about it, but it’s fine, because I get to make fun of him and Lyn just as much,” he says with a laugh, and Ninian laughs, too. _

_ How pleasant, this world of humans, she thinks—able to talk about nothing at all for as long as they can, and yet able to make it mean something by the happiness it brings. _

_ How pleasant, this world of humans, as long as it has Eliwood in it. _

_ “Nils likes you,” Ninian says. “You did rescue me back then, after all.” _

_ “Ah, I remember,” he responds, pensiveness writing its way into his voice. “Nils was there, wasn’t he? He was the one who talked to Lyn. You were...” She feels him heat up against her as he continues. “...so beautiful, even back then.” _

_ “O-oh, Lord Eliwood, you needn’t flatter me like that—” _

_ “I-I’m being serious!” he stutters, and she smiles. He’s so cute when he’s flustered. “You were! Your hair, and your eyes, and your face and everything about you—you’re so amazing, Ninian. I—” He cuts himself off rather suddenly, and Ninian shifts until she can almost see him out of her peripheral vision. _

_ “My lord?” _

_ “It...it’s nothing,” he says, and Ninian quirks an eyebrow. _

_ “If you need to speak with me about something, please do it,” Ninian says. “I wouldn’t want to be the reason you’re withholding information, or—” _

_ “I’m not withholding anything! It’s not important—well, it is actually, but—” _

_ “If it’s important, you should tell me,” she says, shifting until she faces him. Eliwood’s hand still rests on her waist, but he doesn’t make eye contact with her. His cheeks are...very red. “My lord, are you okay?” _

_ “I-I’m fine!” _

_ “Are you sure?” _

_ “I promise I’m fine, Ninian.” _

_ Ninian frowns. _

_ “With all due respect, I know you better than that, my lord. Please tell me—” _

_ “I love you.” _

_ He says it so suddenly, and it catches her off-guard—this is the first time he’s said it, after all, and it slips out of his mouth like a fish from water—and she initially doesn’t respond, which is when he pulls his hand off of her and bites his lip, looking away again. She summons up her courage—she will not lose this chance—and slips her fingers under his chin. He looks up at her for a second, worried and confused, before she shifts and kisses him on the lips. _

_ It’s messy—she’s never kissed anyone before, despite how many times she’s thought about kissing Eliwood—but it happens, and so to her, it’s perfect. When she pulls away, she can see he must think of it like that, too, because his entire face is pink, from his jaw to the tips of his ears. She smiles. _

_ “There’s my answer,” she says softly. “I love you too.” _

_ Eliwood smiles back and kisses her again— _

_ —and again and again and again— _

_ and she merely thinks of how pleasant this world of humans is, able to make sweet nothings turn real and fairytale dreams come true. _

 

-

 

When his mind slips back to the present, it’s because he sees Roy wandering over to the patch of blue flowers and then wandering back with a handful of them, which he ties together and then places on top of her grave before returning to Eliwood and curling up in his lap. Eliwood kisses the back of his head.

“She loved you very much, Roy,” he says, and Roy nods.

“She loved you, too, Papa,” Roy says, and Eliwood smiles.

 

Roy looks up at him with those deep blues, and for a moment, Eliwood finds himself back in that exact spot with Ninian five years ago, and he sighs softly, hugging Roy again. This is what Ninian had wanted; to bring Roy back to this spot when he would be old enough to remember, and Eliwood has finally done that, and he hopes Roy understands the importance of it.

He hasn’t been perfect, he knows, but he’s tried, and in another moment of pensive silence, he swears he hears her voice on the wind.

_ “Thank you.” _


	12. Chapter 12

“Father?”

Roy appears in the doorway in the middle of the night, as he often did when he was younger—now, being eight, it happens much less frequently, but when it does, it’s more concerning.

Eliwood rolls over, bags under his eyes. He’s weak from a cough, a chronic “passing faintness” that’s much worse now than it was thirteen years ago, but he’ll be damned if that prevents him from attending to any needs his son has.

(He was up so late because he was worried about someone else—Hector, specifically. He’s heard that Lyn passed on the birthbed, and that the child didn’t survive either, but he’s received no official word yet.

“Too much is just enough for me,” he recalls Hector saying, but he knows that this isn’t what Hector meant, and he’s worried about him.)

“Yes, Roy?”

It’s only then that he notices the heavy tears streaking down his son’s face, leaving behind fat pink trails in their wake; Eliwood immediately pushes himself up. Despite being so young, he rarely cries, usually tending to steel himself against it instead—so when he does, it’s concerning.

“Roy, are you okay?”

“Father—” Roy gasps, and how upset he is becomes increasingly present with each passing moment. “—I can’t remember Mama’s voice.”

And like that, Eliwood is out of the bed, his arms wrapped around his son, trying desperately to ward away the same emotional ice that claimed Ninian in her last minutes.

“I don’t want to forget,” Roy says, his voice thick with tears. “I don’t want to forget her, Father! I had so little time with her, and this is like—this is like—”

His voice catches, and he sobs.

“It’s like saying goodbye, Father.”

Eliwood knows that. He had to say goodbye, too, of course, but it hurt just as much.

Still hurts just as much.

“Your mother wanted you to be happy, Roy,” he says quietly, running his hand through Roy’s hair. It’s still short, still red, but at the right angle, the moonlight catches it and Eliwood swears he sees it reflect an iridescent icy blue, just like Ninian’s. He sighs. “Even...even if you forget her voice, she’s still a part of you, no matter what. She would not have wanted you to be so upset over her. She loved you very much, Roy, and I’m sure she knew this day would come. She only wished for you to be happy.”

Eliwood can almost taste the words on his lips that he’s afraid Roy will say—something like “if she loved me, she would have stayed”—but he doesn’t say it, and Eliwood is thankful that that’s not a thought on Roy’s mind.

Oh, if only he knew—Ninian stayed in this world because she loved it so much, because she loved the future she saw and loved Eliwood and Roy most of all, and Eliwood has no idea how to express that. The last thing she would have wanted is for Roy to assume she didn’t love him.

Still, Roy just buries his head in his father’s chest and sobs, and Eliwood just pulls him tighter—standing there, just the two of them, with the windowpane frosted over and the forget-me-nots wilting, feels like the loneliest thing in the world, and Eliwood hates it.

 

He wishes he could’ve provided for his son in a way that he couldn’t have, wishes he could’ve kept Ninian with him, or at the very least wishes he could’ve been both father and mother to a son that barely even had one while he mourned—he wishes he didn’t take the rest of Ninian’s life away from her, because it’s been four years and he still hasn’t forgiven himself, and he knows he never will.

He robbed so much from everyone, and the only thing he returned was the weak promise to keep going, and even that’s a struggle.

“What if I forget she even existed one day?” Roy asks, and Eliwood blinks away tears of his own.

It’s a thought he’s had far too often himself, although he’s sworn that he’ll never forget Ninian for as long as he lives—he doesn’t think he could, even if he tried.

She was the only woman he’s ever felt like that towards, and he knows that will never change.

She was the only mother Roy’s ever known, and yet she slips from within his grasp far faster than either he or Eliwood would like her to.

As he calms Roy, Eliwood pushes down a cough, and knows his ideal years are behind him. It’ll be decades before he succumbs to anything, of course, but he’s not nearly who he used to be all those years ago.

Then again, who is? All those years ago, he had Ninian with him, too.

Some things never change, but that certainly did, he thinks bitterly, and he wonders if, one day, when Roy finds out the truth about what happened to Ninian, he’ll hate him, too.

 

Roy “sleeps” in Eliwood’s bed that night, although neither of them really get sleep—Roy spends the rest of the night sobbing until he finally falls asleep just before sunrise, whereupon Eliwood has Marcus look after him while he attends his meetings—Eliwood spends the night telling Roy of all of the hopes and dreams his mother had and hoping that he will understanding, will be at peace, but it doesn’t work.

 

It’s the last night Roy ever refers to Ninian as “Mama”, and, just like him, “Mama” slips into “Mother”, and memories of her slip into another thing buried under the blue forget-me-nots.


	13. Chapter 13

The years speed by; at ten, Roy and Lilina finally meet, and they immediately click; Lilina rushes off to show Roy her pony, and after a tense discussion about Lycia’s future, Eliwood and Hector can finally find it within themselves to relax.

Lilina and Roy can, after all.

 

“Lilina’s a cute one, isn’t she?” Eliwood muses, and he almost thinks of his days with Ninian during the war when he catches the glint of sunlight off of Lilina’s hair; Roy, still somewhat shy, doesn’t seem to know what to do with her at first, but the ever extroverted Lilina doesn’t hesitate in taking the social lead. He grins, because after a second, the two children remind him more of a younger Hector and himself than anything else.

Roy is healthier than he was, thankfully.

Healthier than Ninian, too.

 

“She is,” Hector says, puffing out his chest. “She gets it from me, you know.”

“Oh, definitely,” Eliwood scoffs. He takes another look at the two of them, and lets out a melancholy exhale; there’s so much of Hector in Lilina, but there’s also so much of Lyn, too. He sees the Sacaen in the shape of her eyes, the pink of her cheeks, even the way she stands, and it stings a little bit, because like Ninian, Lyn is gone. “She looks a lot like Lyn, actually.”

“That she does,” Hector agrees, and this time, it’s the Ostian who lets out a sigh. Eliwood glances at him and then down at the floor.

“S-sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“It’s fine—don’t worry about it,” Hector responds. “I’m fine. It’s been years. You know me,” he adds, playfully bumping Eliwood’s shoulder as if giving way to two men much younger than they are. “Too much is just enough.”

Eliwood’s mouth forms a tight line, but he doesn’t make a comment. Hector is strong, and he knows that, but he can still hear the sadness behind his friend’s voice—he knows better than anyone that that pain never really goes away. He doesn’t know if he believes in the whole “other half” thing, but losing Ninian felt like losing a part of himself. He’s sure it was the same way with Hector and Lyn.

“How’s Roy been doing?” Hector asks, and Eliwood shifts.

The uncomfortableness seeps its way back into his joints, his lungs, his entire body as Hector asks that question—it came with age, but it isn’t going away, and it’s worse when he thinks about it.

It only gets worse because, every time, he wonders if this is how Ninian felt, slowly dying and knowing that nothing around her could change that.

One day, will Roy forget him, too?

 

He looks back at the two children, and they’re laughing loudly, and it’s the happiest he’s seen Roy in a long time; Roy isn’t necessarily depressed, not like he was after Ninian died, but he’s not the same child that he would have been if Ninian was still alive, and Eliwood knows that. Still, seeing him open up and allow himself to actually be happy with Lilina makes Eliwood happy, too.

 

“Say, where’re you planning to have Roy study?”

“...study?” Eliwood tilts his head. Roy has tutors at Castle Pherae, but he’s several years short of being ready to attend an official academy—of course, he’ll have to, being the next Marquess. “I...Roy’s quite young for that, don’t you think? I hadn’t even thought about it yet.”

“That’s fair,” Hector says, “although I’m surprised you hadn’t—you usually like to have things done so far in advance that you’ll have someone’s entire life planned out.”  
“Maybe so,” Eliwood adds with a laugh. Hector laughs, too, and it’s that familiar, almost-too-much bellow that gets Eliwood out of his head. It’s nice, he thinks, to have a friend like Hector. He’s fortunate to have grown up with him.

 

He wonders if Roy and Lilina will grow up that way, too.

 

“In that case,” Hector says, clearing his throat. “Roy should come study in Ostia, when he’s old enough.”

“Oh, Hector, I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“It’s not imposing,” the Ostian says, and although his years betray him, Eliwood swears that he still sees the same glint in his old friend’s face now that he did when he was seventeen. Hector grins. “Consider it my personal invitation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry that it's been so long since i updated last !!!! i had a theatre show that i was a part of in june and july, and after the show ended i was pretty emotionally drained and got stuck in a bit of a rut motivation wise ;;v;; but i'll try to upload at least once a week from now on !!
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this chapter! as always, thank you so much for the continued support!


	14. Chapter 14

“Roy, are you sure you have everything packed? If you don’t, I’ll send Marcus with supplies,” Eliwood says, adjusting Roy’s cravat. Roy shifts uncomfortably, exhaling, and Eliwood can’t believe that the years since Hector offering to take Roy in Ostia have passed so quickly.

“Yes, Father. And you don’t need to send Marcus—I’m sure Marquess Ostia will be willing to provide anything I’ve forgotten,” he responds with a reassuring smile, and then it’s Eliwood’s turn to exhale. He didn’t think he would be so... _nervous_ to send Roy off.

“Please write me a letter once you’re all settled in, alright? Matthew will be happy to deliver it if you ask him,” he continues, and Roy nods again.

“Yes, Father.”

“And I doubt you would do this, but don’t let your studies get in front of your health. Please take care of yourself.”

“Yes, Father.”

“If you need anything else, too, just ask Lord Hector. He’ll be more than happy to—”

“ _Father_ ,” Roy says, and Eliwood looks up at him, finally drawing his eyes to Roy’s.

 

(That same gentle look, that same shape, that same beautiful brightness and never-ending patience. Roy is so much like his mother.

 

Ninian would be proud, he thinks.)

 

Eliwood clears his throat. “Yes?”

“I’ll be fine,” Roy says, throwing him an easy smile. “I promise I’ll ask Lord Hector if I need anything. I’ve already packed everything. Marcus will be watching my back on the way there, and should something happen, I’m proficient enough with the sword to defend myself against mere bandits. I’ll be fine.”

Eliwood swallows. “I’m sure you will be. I’m just...I’m worried about you.”

“I understand. I’ll be okay, Father. Please don’t worry about me too much,” Roy says, still smiling, and Eliwood is so happy to see the man he’s beginning to grow into—polite, respectful, open, and yet with an air of friendliness and calm to him that Eliwood has really only seen in Ninian.

(Certainly not in Hector, at the very least, he thinks with an inward laugh.)

“I’ll try,” Eliwood says, scruffling Roy’s hair.

“But, um, Father...” Roy begins, and Eliwood sees his son’s smile fade away, replaced with a look of concern. “...what about your health?”

Eliwood shifts. It’s true, his health certainly hasn’t been getting any better; his pain is slowly but steadily getting worse, and his cough has only followed down that same path, too, but Roy doesn’t need to worry about that. His best years are long behind him, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t have a good amount of time left.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, masking a cough, but Roy doesn’t miss it, and Eliwood doesn’t miss how Roy winces when Eliwood has to turn away and cough immediately after that. He clears his throat again, thumping his chest with the side of his fist and shutting his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Please don’t worry about me.”

“Father...”

Roy’s mouth tightens into a line, and Eliwood sighs.

“Please don’t worry about me, Roy. This is an exciting experience for you, and I don’t want you to let anything get in the way of that, okay? You’ll love Ostia, and trust me—if something’s wrong, you and Lord Hector will be the first ones to know.”

”Yes, Father. Thank you.”

”Of course. I love you, Roy.”

”I love you too, Father.”

After that, Roy doesn’t say anything more, just hugs him, and Eliwood hugs him back; soon after that, Roy and Marcus are on their way, and Eliwood is alone.

(Again.)

 

-

 

He had forgotten how quiet Castle Pherae was on his own. Really, he had never been _alone_ in Castle Pherae; when he was younger, before the war, it had been him and his parents, and then during the war, just him and his mother; after that, he had had Ninian, lively and shining and energetic, and then there had been Roy, too, filling the space with the same love that had been there twenty years before.

And then, it was him and Roy and an empty, Ninian-sized hole in both of their hearts.

And now, it’s just him.

Just him and the forget-me-nots on the windowsill, a quiet reminder of what could’ve been, yet one somehow louder than everything else.

 

“He’s gone, Ninian,” he says aloud, and he feels almost stupid, in a way, because he knows she’s gone too and that she can’t hear him, but he feels like it would be wrong if he didn’t tell her, in one way or another. “I sent him to study in Ostia, at Hector’s request. He and Lilina are excited to see each other again, from what I’ve heard.”

He pauses, as if waiting for a response, but there isn’t one.

 

There never is.

 

Why would there be?

 

Still, he continues, presses onward like he had with her so many years ago, when they had been young and hopeful and had the entire world in their hands, not just a patch of flowers and a lifetime of regrets.

“He misses you. I miss you, too. I’m hoping this will be good for him. I hope it’s what you would have wanted.”

 

In truth, Eliwood’s not sure about whether it is—would she just have wanted him to stay at home? To live with them, as a family?

Are they even a family without her?

 

He makes his way over to their—his—bed and kicks off his shoes before lying down, remembering the nights they had shared in the past and the times before everything fell apart, and he hates that after all these years he still wonders if she truly felt she had made the right decision in the end—but there’s another part of him that so desperately believes that she did, and that it was a choice that they made together and that it was the right one, and that it’s okay to be sad over her but that he’s still _healing_ and that that takes time, and he’s not sure which to believe, and maybe never has been. Thoughts like this don’t often come to him, after all—this is the first time he’s felt so miserable about it in a long time—but when they do, they hit hard.

He would never ask Roy this, but he’s not sure what Roy decided to believe, either, and he’s not sure if he wants to find out. The notion of his own son resenting him for what happened is...repulsive, and it makes Eliwood feel sick to his stomach, but that first part of him still finds a way to believe it—to believe that maybe he deserves it, and if that he couldn’t save Ninian, doesn’t Roy have the right to resent him for that?

 

And he wishes, he wishes with all his heart that she would give him response, that he would receive some kind of sign, but he doesn’t—there’s only quiet, and Castle Pherae is silent, and Eliwood is alone.

 

He heads to Roy’s room after that, just to make sure there’s nothing Roy left behind—he can never be too careful, after all, and that’s when he sees it—a letter sitting on Roy’s bed, placed ornately on top of the pillow, freshly fluffed before he left.

He flips it over.

_For Papa._

It’s one of the very few times Roy has addressed him as “Papa” and not “Father” since that night he came crying into Eliwood’s room, four years ago, and Eliwood smiles—a real, genuine smile, not just another one slapped on to cover what he’s really feeling, and he sits down and opens the envelope, pulling out the carefully folded letter inside.

 

_Dear Papa,_

 

_It’s been a while since I called you that, hasn’t it? It feels weird to write that down, but now that I have the words to explain it, I felt as if I needed to write this. I’m sorry I couldn’t say this in person, but I hope this is just as well for it._

 

_Thank you for being here for me all these years. I know how Mother’s passing affected you, even if I was too young to fully understand at the time—and I don’t know the full extent of the hardships you’ve gone through, but I know it can’t have been easy to deal with mine on top of that, and yet you did anyway, and didn’t give up on me, and were always there for me, no matter how bad I felt._

 

_Lilina and I spoke of how it felt for her to lose Lady Lyn, and how Marquess Ostia reacted, and I hadn’t thought of how hard it must have been for you when Mother passed. Lilina said that Marquess Ostia sometimes mentions how close you and Mother were—I don’t remember a lot, because I was so young, but she loved you, Papa. Those are the warmest memories I have. It’s almost as if I can feel it in my very soul. She loved you so, so much._

 

_Also, please don’t get mad at me for this, but I did overhear a couple of yours and Marquess Ostia’s conversations over the years, and I don’t resent you for what happened—please don’t feel like I do, in fact. I love you more than words can describe, Papa, and I would hate for you to think otherwise. Nothing changes that. I have more pride as your son than anything else, after all._

 

_Sir Marcus would sometimes tell me stories of you, describing you as the “finest knight in Lycia”. I’ve only grown more sure of that description as truth as time goes on._

 

_I took extra precaution in packing my bags just so you wouldn’t have to worry. I made sure I left nothing behind except this letter. I’ll be sure to write, though!_

 

_Love,_

_Roy_

 

Eliwood sets the letter down and sniffs, and then brings his hand to his cheek and realizes he’s crying.

He didn’t know how much he needed it, but hearing it now...it almost feels as if a weight has been lifted off his chest, and what comes off doesn’t quite patch the hole, but it’s a start, and he knows Ninian would be happy with this.

Roy is so much like her, after all. His eyes, his voice, his ever-knowingness of what to say.

Perhaps she lives on in him, then.

 

Eliwood curls up against the wall to reread the letter, and it is quiet, and there is silence in Castle Pherae, but he is not alone.

(Ninian watches and, somewhere, somehow, she smiles, and the forget-me-nots smile with her—and as he gets up to return to his quarters, he notices them, bright and vibrant and for once, not sorrowful, but instead happy, and Eliwood smiles then, too, and he is not alone, and he is sure of it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN LIKE THREE MONTHS I SWEAR I'LL DO BETTER
> 
> thank you for your continued support and i hope you enjoyed this chapter !! i promise ill actually update more frequently ;;v;;


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> roy-centric chapter amen

 

“Oh, Roy!”

Lilina’s voice is the first one he hears when he and Marcus finally arrive in Ostia; he can only hear her at first, but quickly, he sees the blue of her hair bouncing in the wind as she strides over to him, and then sees Hector poking his head out of Castle Ostia behind her.

“Lilina!” He smiles when he sees her, slipping off of the back of his horse, and Lilina hugs him, grinning from ear to ear. It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other, after all; she’s grown, and so has he, but instead of the dresses he remembers her in, she’s dressed in a mage’s uniform, red with gold accents and shimmering and sparkling in the sunlight. “Are you in training already?”

“I just started a couple days ago! Lady Cecilia is an incredible teacher,” Lilina says. “She specializes in magic. Oh, maybe you could learn it, too!”

“Sounds good to me!” Roy says, and he tails after her, welcomed into Castle Ostia by Lord Hector and sent off by Marcus, and the world is shiny and exciting and new.

 

-

 

He ends up picking the sword over magic despite Lady Cecilia’s specialization, and when he tells Hector about it as he dines with them, and Hector laughs.

“You’re just like your father, did you know that?” he asks, and Roy smiles.

“I would like to think so,” he responds, and though he knew his father would joke about it, Roy sees the connection between Hector and Lilina, too; the same hair color, the same smile, even the same mannerisms, in a way. Lilina is much more dainty about it than Hector is—although he’s not nearly as rowdy as Eliwood swears he once was, Roy sometimes still sees the heavy movements and the cheeky comments jump out—but they’re very similar, they really are.

There’s a certain tenderness that Lord Hector has only with Lilina, too, and it makes Roy happy to see it, and it makes him miss Eliwood a bit, too.

“Marquess Ostia...” Roy begins, after Lilina has disappeared somewhere else, but Hector cuts him off before he can finish his question.

“Please call me Lord Hector. Marquess Ostia is too formal,” Hector says, and somewhere in the depths of his mind, Roy can see that the title ‘Marquess Ostia’ reminds him of someone else, but he doesn’t press.

“Lord Hector, then—is it really alright if I call you that?—do you think my father will be okay?”

“Oh, Eliwood?” Hector tilts his head and then gives that bellow of a laugh, raising an eyebrow at Roy. “Don’t worry about your old man so much. Eliwood may be frail, but he’s by no means weak. Have a little faith in him.”

“Thank you,” Roy says, and Hector nods.

“Trust me. Eliwood would not let his health get in his way—not in times like these.”

And there are a million thoughts racing through Hector’s head, and Roy almost wants to press further and ask what he means—he remembers his father and Hector mentioning some kind of evil star in Bern—but yet again, he doesn’t press, merely observes and stays silent.

“Roy,” Hector says after a moment, “please forgive me if I cannot protect you and Lilina.”

“Lord Hector?”

“Nevermind. Think nothing of it,” Hector says, and with that, he leaves.

 

-

 

The years pass by quickly in Ostia; he and Lilina grow together, and grow closer at that; he excels at the sword, and she in anima magic, and the world changes, and Bern grows angry.

 

The two of them sit on the roof of Castle Ostia, quiet beneath the cover of starlight, and Lilina exhales, leaning her head against Roy’s shoulder. Despite all the looming pressure, it’s a comfort for him.

(He wonders if this is how his father felt when he first saw his mother, all those years ago.)

“Roy,” she says quietly, “Bern conquered Ilia and Sacae. Did you know that?”

“I did,” he responds, and there’s another moment of silence before she speaks again.

“What do you think will become of us, then? Of Lycia?”

 

In truth, Roy’s not really sure what to say; he wants to believe Bern wouldn’t invade, but he knows in his heart they will. He’s more worried for Eliwood than anything, though—his father’s health...he knows Eliwood had been getting worse before he left, but it’s been years since then. He can’t imagine his father is doing any better, and the notion of his father being left defenseless in his illness against the might of Bern horrifies him.

Eliwood may be the strongest knight in all of Lycia, but what is a knight to an unyielding illness?

 

And he wishes, he wishes with all of his heart, that he could change that future, but it just seems so inevitable. Bern will invade. He’s heard they’ve already started at its borders; it’s only a matter of time until they reach Pherae.

 

“I don’t know,” he says, “but I will fight for Pherae, and for Lycia. If enough of us fight back, we must be able to defeat Bern, right?”

“But they’re the military superpower,” Lilina murmurs. “Can we really defeat them?”

“I have faith that we can,” he responds, slipping his hand into hers. “We have to.”

 

-

 

He receives a letter from his father later on; Hector hands it to him personally, face tight with worry, and Roy’s gut immediately clenches when he sees how short it is compared to every other letter he’s received. He knows what it is, and he’s sure Lilina does, too.

 

_ Dear Roy, _

 

—and his father’s handwriting is shaky, and Roy hates to see that even his hands are beginning to fail him, or that the pain is becoming too much—

 

_ I hate to call upon you during the middle of your studies—I hope that Lady Cecilia has taught you well—but I’m sure you’ve heard, or if you haven’t, I’m sorry that I must be the one to break this to you. _

 

_ Bern has invaded. _

 

_ Please come home. I understand if you would rather stay in Ostia, but it’s safer here than it is there. Marquess Ostia and I have discussed this in the past—Ostia, being the head of the Lycian League, is likely the first target. Marquess Ostia would also desire that you bring Lilina with you. _

_ Holding the vow with the ancient tradition, Lycia must come forth as one. My illness wears on me, as I’m sure you know, but I will lead the Pheraen army alongside the other marquesses. _

 

_ Please be safe on your journey home. _

 

_ I love you. _

_ -Father _

 

And just like that, Roy knows what he must do. He will not let his father lead this war, and he will most certainly fight in Eliwood’s stead—for Pherae, for Elibe, and for Father—

—no, for Papa, and for Mother, too. She would not want him to be at the mercy of another war, another man’s death wish, and the evils of another society all over again. That is not what she would have wanted, he’s sure.

 

No, his father has already faced enough hardships in his life—he doesn’t need this one on top of everything else. Eliwood should rest. He deserves it—a long, peaceful life, one unmarked by another war, and unmarked by the losses that another war might bring.

 

He and Lilina begin packing their bags, and for the first time in three years, Roy is coming home, but certainly not to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha eliwood canonically + voluntarily passing down leadership of the army to roy? i think not!
> 
> also this is sort of a filler chapter bc next chapter is when fe6 starts so apologies for that but!! we out here
> 
> (also in the future bc roylina is canon you can expect to see a little more of that in future chapters but it'll still be eliwood centric)


	16. Chapter 16

Lilina arrives first, and Eliwood is afraid.

 

“Where’s Roy?” he asks, and Lilina, clinging to him, shakes her head. She looks so much like Hector that it’s almost unnerving, and he wraps one arm around her, brandishing his sword in the other.

“He’s coming,” Lilina says. “He told me to go on ahead, because he saw some bandits, and I—Lord Eliwood, I shouldn’t have left him behind! I’m so sorry!”

“He’ll be fine,” Eliwood promises her, but he’s sure his own anxiety is just as wrought across his face as hers is. He curses. “If I weren’t in this state, I would go out there myself...”

“Lord Eliwood...”

“Lilina,” Eliwood says slowly, “you must hide. This castle will become a battlefield.”

And he despises that as the words fall out of his mouth, because he doesn’t want to even think of Castle Pherae being torn down around him, of losing whatever he has left of Ninian—

—he thinks of the forget-me-nots on the windowsill and curses. He’ll have to check on those when the battle is over. To lose those now would be almost as painful as losing Ninian herself all over again.

“No! I can fight, too!” she says, almost yelling, but her voice quavers, and Eliwood remembers what it was like to be that young, that afraid, and he shuts his eyes.

He will not let the same atrocities befall the children, too.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he responds instead, and he sees Lilina’s gaze falter as he tries to bite back his guilt. “If something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t know what to say to Hector.”

“To my father?” Lilina asks, pausing. Her grip on him is still tight, but the mention of Hector makes her visibly rethink her statements. After a moment, she shakes her head, pulling herself back together. “But still—”

“Don’t worry,” Eliwood responds, offering her a small smile. Lilina meets eyes with him, and the feeling is once again uncanny—to see such fear in Hector’s eyes would have left him terrified of what awaited them. The Ostian marquess had never once faltered in any of his decisions, and Eliwood hopes he won’t start now.

The years are only catching up with them, after all.

“Roy should be arriving any moment now, so as long as we can hold our own until then, we can drive off these foul marauders.” Eliwood pauses before continuing. “Merlinus! Send a messenger to Roy informing him of the attack immediately!”

Somewhere, he hears Merlinus’ reply, and Eliwood braces Lilina tightly against him and brandishes his sword, hoping his illness will not get the better of him and swearing that even if it does, he will not let Hector down.

(Hector and Roy are all he has left, after all. He can’t imagine how he would feel if he lost either one of them.)

 

-

 

“Father! Lilina!”

Eliwood exhales. The bandits haven’t made it too close to the castle, but there have been a couple who’ve managed to make it to his quarters, although they were quickly brought down. Still, he’s not sure how much longer he could have lasted—his joints and muscles feel absolutely hellish, and it gets harder to breathe with every thrust of his blade. He hates for Roy and Lilina to see him like this—weak, vulnerable, _incompetent_ —not the shining ideal of knighthood he once was, and one that he futilely wishes he could be again—but both he and Lilina being alive and safe, save for a few wounds, is at least a better result than what could have happened.

“Roy! Is that you?”

Moving out from beside him, Lilina pokes her head out to look through the door, and Eliwood watches as she straightens herself up and smooths her skirt, also taking the time to adjust her hat, and Eliwood smiles to himself.

Once, he had done that for Ninian, too.

Roy pops through the doorway and throws himself around Eliwood, practically deflating from relief.

“Oh, Father, Lilina! Thank goodness you’re alright,” he says, detaching himself from Eliwood. He goes over to hug Lilina next, and Eliwood doesn’t miss the way Lilina smiles.

(Oh, Hector will hate him for this, but it’s nice in the moment.)

“Thank you for coming all this way, Roy,” Eliwood says, scruffling Roy’s hair, and Roy salutes and nods.

“Of course, Father.” He pauses, then, and Eliwood watches as that same look of concern from when he was about to leave for Ostia fleets over Roy’s face. His voice softens as he speaks, and his mannerisms become so much like Ninian’s that it almost hurts. “...how is your health?”

“I’m fine,” Eliwood lies, and he thanks Elimine that Roy can’t see the way his lungs are searing, or how rigid all of his muscles are. It hasn’t been that long since he last sparred with someone, but the slow atrophy of his muscles certainly didn’t help.

He can feel himself wasting away, and he hates it. He’s not fine—but he can’t say that to Roy. It would break his heart.

Eliwood clears his throat. The look of concern on Roy’s face doesn’t go away, and Eliwood sighs. “I’m fine. I’m still alive, see?”

Roy’s mouth tenses into a line, but he doesn’t say anything at first.

“Father, I know that Lycia is going to war, and that’s why you wanted me back home, but...please let me fight in your place.”

“No. Absolutely not. I’m not risking your life like that. Not in my place,” Eliwood says immediately, and he sees Roy falter. Eliwood does not need to place his own son’s life in jeopardy like that—what sort of father would he be if he sent his own son off to his death? It never ends with just the war. There’s always some greater force behind it, and if there isn’t, the scars behind it never go.

The things war takes never come back.

And he wishes he could explain that to Roy, to tell Roy if all the things he’s seen and how many things he wishes could be unseen, the bitter reality of it all—he would give his own life a million times to protect Roy’s even just once from the atrocities he’s seen on the battlefield, to protect Roy from the things he’ll wield in his own hands, to keep him safe from everything that will pursue him once he’s out there.

 

(And as he thinks about this, for a moment, he remembers holding Durandal in his hands and driving it through the chest of some great dragon, and then watching as the beast morphed back into his love, fallen and bleeding on the ground and whispering to Eliwood over and over again that it wasn’t his fault—

—and if only he had had the naivete to believe it, and if only he had had the wisdom to let her go when she had come back, if only he had not cut her life short like that once over and then again—

—but he turns back to Roy, and he sees her eyes and her stance and her voice and _everything_ about her in him, and an increasing part of him thinks that this is truly what Ninian would have wanted, and that he will not let anything get in the way of that.

He will not let Ninian’s last wish be desecrated.)

 

Roy shifts on his feet, and Eliwood tries to ignore the blood of the now-defeated bandits that’s spattered across his armor, but that shade of scarlet is a color he wishes he would never have to see on his son.

“But Father, your health—please let me go instead—”

“Roy, I’m not letting you go in my place. You don’t need to face these kinds of hardships.”

He sees her temper come out in Roy, too. So much of him is like her.

“Father, _please_ —just let me go! I’ll fight! I know how to use a sword—Elimine, I just proved that—and anything I don’t know, I’ll learn! Marcus and everyone else is with me! I’ll be fine! I have to do this!”

And suddenly the fire of Eliwood’s own temper comes out, sparked into action by paternal fear and want—no, _need_ —for defense of his son, the last person he has left in his family, and he _hates_ that he raises his voice at his own son, but he would rather die himself than let anything happen to Roy.

“Roy, I’m your father! I’m not letting you go in my place! What would I be if I let you die in my stead?”

And then Roy, like a lion, bites back just as quick and just as fiery, the calm before the storm.

“ _Papa, you’re my father_! I can’t lose you too!” Roy shouts, and just like that, he’s crying—sobbing, even—and Eliwood is crying, too, and Roy bursts forward and hugs him, resting his head on his father’s chest, and he _hates_ that he can feel Eliwood’s ribs even beneath all the layers of clothing, and he hates that he can hear Eliwood’s wheezes with every breath he takes, and he hates that he has to leave his father alone, but he will not let his father walk out to his death.

He’s already lost enough.

“Please let me go,” he whispers, shaking. He feels Eliwood’s hands fall on his shoulders, large and warm and comforting, but bone-ragged and just not _strong_ enough to fight another war. Roy chokes back another sob, trying to quell his tears. “Please.”

“Roy...”

“I won’t let you do this to yourself, Father. I’m...I’m going.” He pauses, arms still tight around Eliwood, and Eliwood brushes his hand through Roy’s hair, sighing.

“...I see that there’s nothing I can do to stop you, then.” Eliwood kisses his son’s forehead and then pulls him tight again, giving him another squeeze and praying that his son will come back alive. “I love you, Roy. Be safe.”

Roy nods and squeezes his father back. “I will, Father. I love you too.” He swallows, and there is so much of Ninian in him, so much quiet yet steely resilience that it makes Eliwood’s heart ache—he is, in so many ways, just like her. He could never stop her, either. Roy, just like Ninian, is his own force, one that Eliwood could only contain, only hold onto for so long—it seems that Roy’s time has come, then, too, and Eliwood learned long ago that the river of fate carves its own path, unbending to the will of human demands.

If it did, he would have been able to save Ninian.

Finally, Roy steps back, eyes still red with tears but face determined and steeled to whatever the future might bring, and gives the knight’s salute to his father. “I won’t fail.”

Eliwood salutes back, and, like he knew twenty years ago, knows that war has begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i bent canon a bit bc it's more dramatic (and maybe realistic?) for eliwood to be against roy going
> 
> as always thank you for your continued support! we are officially into fe6


	17. Chapter 17

It’s months later that Eliwood hears about the fall of Castle Araphen.

 

He’d been wondering about how Hector had been faring, of course—who hadn’t? The leader of the Lycian Alliance would certainly be a target for Bern. Elimination of Hector would mean quick work with the rest of Lycia.

 

Matthew comes to deliver the news personally.

 

“I come bearing...urgent news, Lord Eliwood,” Matthew whispers when Eliwood greets him. The thief looks almost pained—a look that, despite his age, is rarely found on Matthew’s face.

“Matthew...?”

“I...” Matthew pauses and then straightens up, and Eliwood can see that the rims of his eyes are red. The last time Eliwood can remember Matthew being so upset was when they found Leila’s body (and Eliwood recalls that then, Hector had been the one to console him, to give him time to grieve if he needed to). “Lord Eliwood....I regret to inform you that Bern has seized Castle Araphen, and...”

Eliwood places his hands on Matthew’s shoulders and exhales, voice wrought with worry, and Matthew looks down.

“Matthew. What’s happened to Hector?”

(and that last question comes out more like a statement, because he doesn’t know if he wants to know, doesn’t know if Hector is alright, doesn’t know if his son is alright, prays to St. Elimine that they’re both safe, doesn’t know what he’ll do without either one of them—)

“Lord Hector, Marquess of Ostia, fought valiantly against two of the three of Bern’s Dragon Generals. He...”

 _Oh_.

Matthew doesn’t even need to finish his sentence, just sees the look on Eliwood’s face as he crumples, and he places a single hand on Eliwood’s shoulder and whispers an agonized “I’m sorry” before he disappears back into the night in a flash of crimson, and Eliwood falls to his knees and screams.

 

How many years had it just been him and Hector?

They met when they were twelve, had sliced and shook their hands when Erik of Laus had commanded them to; since then, they had sparred once every two months, until their journey had ended. And even beyond that, during the years they hadn’t met, it had still been the two of them, inseparable and bound by blood—

—and Hector had been through it all. Hector had been through just growing up, had been through the disappearance of his father, had been through Ninian and Lyn and his parents and children and parenthood, and Hector was the foundation upon which he built himself.

 

Hector, who pushed him.

Hector, who never let him give up.

Hector, who supported him no matter what.

Hector, who was always there for him and Hector, who never faltered and Hector, who pushed through when he couldn’t and Hector, who promised he would be there until the end and Hector, who was always by his side, and Hector, who—

—and Hector, who was gone.

 

And Eliwood, who doesn’t know what to do, and Eliwood, who’s alone, and Eliwood, who has lost everyone important to him save his son, and Eliwood, whose son is out there fighting, and Eliwood, who can’t even wield a sword anymore, and Eliwood, who had a warning for Ninian and has a warning for Roy but had no such thing for Hector.

(And Eliwood, who cries.)

 

And Eliwood hopes and prays to every saint, every god, every great dragon he can think of that somewhere, Hector is happy and reunited with Lyn and Uther and his parents and free from the chains of war and misery and loneliness and whatever other curses Armads brought along with it.

And then he thinks of Lilina, so young and so afraid and so alone, who must be hurting beyond belief, who has no one save herself to go to when she is hurting, who is forever deprived of a father’s touch, who has to see Hector every time she looks in the mirror.

 

“Too much is just enough for me,” Hector had always said, but was this what he meant by too much, he wonders? Was that what Durban had told him, when he had received Armads? That “too much” would lead to his doom? Because one Dragon General would have already been a death sentence, but two is too much, and too much is more than just enough. Too much is _too much_ and Eliwood wishes he could have told Hector that, could have begged him to seek asylum somewhere else, to maybe even lead the Alliance from Pherae, or, hell, even make Eliwood the puppet leader and have Hector pulling the strings from the background just so he could have lived on and had someone less important die in his place—

—because Hector, strong and intelligent and fearless, was not spending his days wasting away in his own castle, and could have done so much more than sob like a child if someone else had died instead of him.

 

Too much might have been just enough for Hector, but Hector also knew damn well that too much was _certainly_ too much for everyone else, and _this_ is too much. This horrific aching, this terrible emptiness, this abominable, awful, petrifying Hector-sized gap in everyone’s lives, unable to be filled.

The whole of Lycia is deprived of not only its leader, but of stupid jokes, of that familiar bellowing laugh, of lightheartedness in the face of despair, of a Marquess, of a father, of a sparring partner, of hope—of a _friend_.

And if there was a way Hector would have liked to have gone out, Eliwood at one point thought it would have been on the battlefield, but he thinks now that it would have been at the end of a long life, with himself and Lilina and whatever other family he has beside him, and Hector has been robbed of that at the age of thirty-seven, with an entire life left to live, an entire country left to lead, an entire world who depended on him to make things better.

 

And Eliwood so desperately wants to be mad, wants to shake with anger, wants to grab his sword and lead the army himself, but he can’t. Instead, he’s just miserable and lost, just needs a friend to guide him, needs a friend to tell him what to do, needs a friend to reassure him everything will be okay, needs _Hector_ —

but Hector is gone, and neither Eliwood nor Lilina have any flowers to remember him by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally remembered yesterday that hector dies and had a small crisis about it. i really hope i did hector justice in this chapter ;; press f to pay respects


	18. Chapter 18

 

The war progresses, and it almost seems as if Eliwood is left behind.

 

There’s word of the princess of Bern being spotted within Roy’s army, and the retrieval of all of the divine weapons save three—

—just the mention of the Durandal makes Eliwood’s skin crawl, and hearing Armads being wielded again just makes him remember Hector, and then he's hurting all over again—

—the alliance between the shambling Lycian Alliance and Etruria, the later alliance of Etruria and Bern, Roartz’ rebellion, everything...

Tale after tale that passes through Pherae is of the dangers his son is in, and his heart aches for Roy, up against both Elibean superpowers.

The reality of losing him seems all the more likely.

 

And yet, his illness’ progression seems to have stopped—for the first time in months, or maybe even years, he feels well enough to leave the castle, and he knows the first place he must go, the location instantly popping into his head after watering the forget-me-nots.

The meadow.

 

He doesn’t go during sunrise—the years where he could wake up early enough to go and not suffer for the next couple of days are long behind him now—but instead goes at noon, placing himself once again beneath the branches of the great tree and remembering when Ninian was still with him.

And around him, the field seems to glower as if in reaction to the war, and yet the breeze is warm and comforting, the same way it was that morning, and he almost feels young again, passionate again, loved again, and the blue of the sky reminds him only of her hair—

—he doesn’t realize it, but his fingers twitch almost as if hers were on top of his again, slowly teaching him how to braid, patient and calming—

—and the field itself seems as if it’s doused in her presence, in the raw essence of Ninian that has been absent from his life for so long.

And he misses it, and he misses her, and the wound is certainly no longer fresh but it’s still raw and aching, and he wonders if it’ll ever heal—but then, how could it? The world is less bright for her absence.

He finds, too, that the overwhelming light of the noontime sun brings up different things than the sunrise did, beauty in a different way, too, and he leans back and closes his eyes and lets the memories overtake him.

 

-

 

_It’s noon, then, fresh after a morning battle, brutal and sleepy on both sides of the army. The enemy retreated quickly—just a quick scuffle, nothing more, nothing less—and they continue on their hike to the next location, the entire army slowly growing more chatty as everyone progressively wakes up just a bit more._

_Lyn and Hector flirt awkwardly behind them, too, or whatever their...frankly somewhat demented version of flirting is. Ninian hears another quick jab from Lyn to Hector about his slow and reckless fighting style and then Hector’s equally quick and snappish response and giggles to herself, and Eliwood smiles at her._

_“That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh, Ninian,” he says softly, and Ninian immediately turns red._

_“O-oh, is it? ...I’m sorry, my lord,” she says, and like that, she closes up again, and Eliwood shakes his head._

_“N-no, I didn’t mean to imply that that was bad! I just...it’s pretty,” he says softly, and Ninian looks up at him, eyes slightly wide. “Your...your laugh, I mean. Your laugh is pretty.” Eliwood scratches the back of his head, wishing that he was able to be smooth with the people he actually wished to impress. Ninian smiles at him._

_“Thank you, my lord. I appreciate it.”_

 

_They continue to walk in tension-filled silence for a second before Ninian pauses, and Eliwood glances over at her, concern tracing its way across his features._

_“Ninian? Are you alright?”_

_“Y-yes, my lord, I-I’m fine! Please don’t worry about me—it’s just...quite sunny. I can feel my skin starting to burn...”_

_That’s when it dawns on Eliwood that, Ninian, as pale as she is, might begin to burn in the sunlight. He’s certainly no stranger to a good sunburn himself, but Ninian is even paler than he is. Without thinking, he slips off his chestplate so that he can undo his cape, and Ninian gasps._

_“L-Lord Eliwood!”_

_“...yes?” Eliwood asks, and then he realizes what it must come across as, for him to just be...undressing in the middle of their hike. This time, it’s Eliwood who turns red. “W-wait, no! No, not like that! I’m...just give me a second,” he says, huffing in embarrassment, and Ninian shields her eyes._

_(It’s kind of cute to see her all embarrassed like this, to be honest.)_

_He slips his cape off and then slides his chestplate back on, tightening what little of the armor he can, before throwing the cape around Ninian’s shoulders and pulling the hood over her head._

_“There. You won’t be too much cooler in that, but it’ll at least shield you from the sun. We can pick up some salve at the next town we stop by if you start to burn,” he says, and Ninian nods._

_“Thank you, my lord.”_

_He’s so much taller than her that his cape completely swallows her, but she doesn’t seem to mind it, instead pulling it tighter around her and smiling to herself._

_Her smile is cute, he muses, and she must catch him smiling back at her, because she turns away, blushing once again._

_“A-ah, Lord Eliwood, please don’t mind me! It just...smells like you...” She pauses, and then scrunches her face, exhaling. “I’m sorry, that probably sounds...creepy...”_

_“No, it doesn’t sound creepy at all!” Eliwood responds, and Ninian smiles again, but she still looks away._

_(She’s so cute when she’s flustered.)_

 

_It’s more walking—so much walking to the next town—before Eliwood finally gathers up his courage, taking careful note of how Ninian’s free hand swings beside her, just barely poking out from the slits of his cape._

_Finally, he sucks in a breath and just goes for it, slipping his hand into hers. At first, she looks at him with a vaguely panicked look, but then sees how red his face is, and smiles again to herself, which Eliwood just barely catches; she tightens her grip as she weaves her fingers in between hers, and he flushes even harder, cheeks almost the color of his hair. She laughs again._

_“Your laugh is so cute,” he murmurs under his breath._

_“M-my lord?”_

_“I-I didn’t think you would hear that!” Eliwood says, voice getting higher. Behind them, Lyn and Hector shoot Eliwood a questioning look, their gazes dropping down to their interlaced hands before rising back to Eliwood’s face. Hector stifles a laugh, but doesn’t say anything, and Eliwood ignores it. “S-sorry!”_

_“M-my lord, I’m just flattered that—”_

_“Y-yeah,” he says loudly, and Ninian laughs._

_Slowly, steadily, she raises hand to her face and presses her lips against the back of his palm, and Eliwood flushes even harder as he imagines how the softness of her lips would feel against his, and then immediately tries to shoo the thought._

_“That’s customary for someone in the presence of a noble, is it not?” Ninian asks, voice soft._

_“I—I—kind of,” Eliwood stutters, and Ninian raises an eyebrow. “Typically, it’s...for a man to a noble woman, or...”_

_“...or....?”_ _  
_ _“...or between couples,” he finishes, and Ninian jerks her hand out of his, covering her mouth with it._

_“O-oh! My apologies, Lord Eliwood, I had no idea—”_

_“No, no, it’s fine! Please don’t feel bad about it!” Eliwood says, and he can hear Hector and Lyn snickering very loudly behind him, and he scrunches his eyes shut, voice dropping so that only Ninian can hear it. “...I enjoyed it. Please don’t feel bad,”  he murmurs. Ninian shoots him another look._

_“...really?”_

_“Yeah,” he says slowly, and then, hesitantly, Ninian slips her hand back into his, and they keep walking, in tension-filled but comfortable silence, surrounded by the warm breeze and endless fields._

 

-

 

He opens his eyes again, the sweetness of the memory still wrapping around him alongside the breeze, and a real, genuine smile traces its way over his face again for the first time in forever, and it feels like Ninian is still with him, dancing somewhere out in the field, young and healthy and thriving again the way she had been so many years ago. He hadn't had to worry about how much time she had left then; the war was still on their minds, but it was their only real concern, the only other thing on their minds being each other, and life had been honey-sweet and overwhelmingly worth living. The loss of her still stings, but following that memory, he feels as if it's the sort of sting that comes along with healing, and he believes that this is what Ninian would have wanted for him; in this moment, it feels like he can truly believe it.

 

And then it all comes crashing down as one of the esquires races up to him and hands him a notice before saluting and racing back off to the castle.

 

Eliwood reads it, slowly, carefully, and immediately feels his stomach sink.

Roy’s army has traveled through Sacae, making final preparations before invading Bern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gotta love filler chapters bc it allows me to throw some elinini back into this fic amen
> 
> i have posted three (3) chapters today and five chapters this whole weekend and i am feeling SO GOOD
> 
> also some love and care for eliwood as requested. @no you're a real homie
> 
> as always thank you all for the continued support!


	19. Chapter 19

His entire life has lead up to this.

 

This sole moment, the binding blade in his hands, the dark dragon in front of him, scars littering every inch of his body, marks of his journey imprinted on him forever—

—and as he steadies his blade, takes in one breath, he thinks about his father, and the similarities between them. The last time an alert would have been sent to his father was...months ago, just when they had started invading Bern. And since then, they’ve collected all of the divine weapons, pulled the binding blade, and Roy has become a great lord, finally becoming what Eliwood always had faith he could be.

He wants to make his father proud of him, took this entire journey in his stead, swore on his honor as a son of Pherae that he would return alive, and the journey on the way has been indescribable. He’s seen so many experiences, made so many friends, gone through things both incredible and abominable, touched the hearts of so many and had his heart equally as touched in return—

—and of course, there’s Lilina, soft and tender and _his_ and by his side without question, an unspoken promise to always be by each other’s side (although less unspoken than spoken, if he’s being honest with himself), and Roy _knows_ he’s found what his father had, and he’ll be damned if he lets anything get in the way of that.

And in so many ways, his life parallels his father’s, the two of them, children of flame destined to lead Pherae, to go on a legendary journey, to wield the blade, to slay the dragon, and finally to return home, love by his side, both for someone in particular and for the country, and he begins to understand how Eliwood felt when his journey ended—how it is to feel _whole_.

And there are ways in which it’s different—he is healthy, and Wolt is by his side still, not torn away from him like Lord Hector from his father, and Lilina brandishes a tome instead of rings, and he is thankful for that, because he’s seen the way in which his father has been torn apart and stitched back together only to be destroyed more forcefully the next time, wholeness ripped away from him as the seams snap, and he swears that with this final swing of his sword, he will avenge everything that his father has lost, and he is finally fulfilling his promise both to his father and to himself that he will not be another item added to that list.

 

And the heat from Lilina’s hand is still present on his even though she let go as he approached the dark dragon herself, and the words of Lord Hector still ring in his ears even though he’s gone, has _been_ gone, and the promises he made to his father at the very beginning of the journey are still fresh on his mind even though he is finally about to see his journey out to the end.

 

_I’ll be home safe, Father._

 

And he plunges the sword through the base of the dark dragon’s throat, and the world goes silent in a brilliant flash of light—

—and he swears he sees his mother, before lifting his arm to shield his eyes—

—before it fades again and he lowers his arm, opening his eyes to the crumpled figure of a woman on the ground.

And his first instinct is to run to her, to hug her and tell her how much he’s missed her, how _happy_ he and Father will be to finally have her back, how desperately empty Eliwood’s life has been without her, how many years it’s been—

—and then the illusion fades away, he stops seeing what he wants to see and sees the woman for what she is, and it’s Idunn on the ground, unconscious, and around them, the temple begins to disintegrate, like his visions of his mother, like his hopes she would return, and he is quick to command his army to escape and make a run for it, Lilina grabbing his hand as they sprint while the world collapses around them.

“Roy,” she breathes, breaths shallow, “for a moment there, after that great flash of light, I almost thought Idunn was my father.”

“Funny,” he whispers back, dodging earthbound debris, “I almost thought she was my mother, too.”

And he turns and he sees the people in his army who have also lost, and he sees that same awestruck look painted on Lilina’s face and almost certainly on his as well, and he wonders if that was the release of the evil energy from inside Idunn, the expulsion of unwanted darkness that festered for so long, that gave way to overwhelming light for just a second, a mirror image of what could have been.

 

Once they’re all outside, staring back at the ruins of the temple, Roy does a quick headcount and breathes a sigh of relief as he confirms that everyone is out okay.

 

And then, he does a quick sweep back over the ruins, and miraculously, Idunn’s body is sheltered beneath one of the few parts of the temple still left standing, as if defended by an invisible force, and Roy wonders if he really _did_ see his mother, coming in to bridge the world of humans and dragons one last time.

He makes his way carefully across the rubble, picking her up and bringing her back before setting her on the ground. Like this, she looks just like any other girl, and he sighs.

“Fae,” he calls, and the young divine dragon comes bouncing over, energetic as ever.

“Yes?”

Roy swallows, peering down to Idunn’s face, still, yet peaceful. “Fae, please take this girl back to Arcadia with you.”

“Roy? That girl is Idunn. She’s evil,” Fae says, and Roy shakes his head, patting the young divine dragon on the head.

“No. Not any longer, Fae. We saved her.” Roy smiles at Fae, and Fae smiles back. “Please take her home with you.”

“Okay!” Fae chirps, and Roy knows Idunn will be left in good hands.

 

-

 

And there’s so much to _do_ once they’re back; he and Lilina go the now Queen Guinivere’s coronation—

( _“Lilina...I don’t know when, but someday...I’ll go pick you up.”_

And that’s a promise, that’s for sure, one maybe more eventful than the coronation itself.)

—and then the visit to Arcadia, and the pleasing news that Idunn is really, truly recovering, and returning all the divine weapons to their rightful places, and then finally, finally home.

 

Home, for good.

 

Home, back to Pherae, back to peace and back to his friends and back to life as it should be and back to Father, who’s been waiting for him all this time.

Roy smiles.

He kept his promise after all.

He’s coming home safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end is nigh folks. i officially know what chapter im ending at. but until then roy will continue to forever be a good boi
> 
> as always thank you so much for the continued support!!


	20. Chapter 20

To say Eliwood is literally the most stressed he’s ever been in his entire life would be a horrific understatement.

 

The last he heard of his son and his army was that they were invading Bern, and word from the other Lycian officials seems to indicate that their invasion was successful, and that King Zephiel was dead, but that was weeks ago, and he should have heard back from Roy or one of the other officials by now, and yet, he hasn’t. Clearly, something else happened, and Eliwood doesn’t even want to think of the price Roy might’ve paid to bring down King Zephiel.

 

The price for this war has already been too great, Eliwood thinks. Losing Hector was one thing. That was approaching two years ago, now—it still hurts, especially when he catches himself just needing a friend, because there’s never been anyone quite like Hector—but losing Roy on top of that would be indescribable.

 

But despite that, he’s heard no word about Roy being dead, which he supposes is also a good thing. At least in Lycia, hearing that the heir to Pherae had perished would be a pretty massive deal, amplified by the fact that said heir has been journeying across Elibe to gather the divine weapons and slay the tyrannic king of Bern, which is...no small feat within itself, certainly.

 

If Eliwood could have chosen a different path for Roy, he would have, without hesitation—the war is over, but his son _still isn’t home_.

(He’s absolutely certain Lowen and Rebecca are tired of hearing him talk about it, too, which just makes him wish that Ninian or Hector were here to hear him out, but...)

 

And on top of all of that, his health.

He’s never been particularly healthy—he was always sick as a child, even through his adolescence, and if Hector or Lyn were still here, they would more than be able to vouch for his fragility on their journey, too—but this is something else.

Not just a passing faintness, but wheezes and aches and coughs and shakes and dizzy spells that he knows will see him through to the end, which he assumes will most likely come sooner rather than later—given the rate at which he’s hurtling towards permanent bedrest, he’ll be surprised if he lasts another five years. Ten is impossible, certainly.

And he most certainly wants Roy to come home, but he doesn’t want Roy to see him like _this_ —what must it be like, to have one parent dead and the other parent slowly dying by eighteen?

(And he thinks he finally understands Ninian’s dying words now, when she had asked him to not let Roy remember her like that, sick and panicked and oh so obviously at the end of her life, and his heart yearns for her once more, comforted only by the fact that it’s only a matter of time before he sees her again.)

 

Roy was still a child when he left, too—barely fifteen—and now, assuming he’s even _alive_ , he’ll be eighteen, a man in his own right, and Eliwood will have been absent from those key years of his life, instead watching from afar and wasting away while praying that his son is faring well. He fears for Roy’s health—what if, Elimine forbid, he inherited Eliwood’s illnesses? What then?—and even his safety, and prays he hasn’t gone through any disfiguring injuries, and hopes with every ounce of his being that Roy has not gone through a fraction of the loss he went through at that age.

If he could have granted Roy a peaceful life, he would have, without a moment’s hesitation.

 

(And he hopes, he hopes and he hopes and he hopes that somewhere, wherever they are, Ninian and Hector and Lyn and everyone are watching over Roy, keeping him safe from harm, as one last favor to Eliwood—

—because that’s what friends do, right? Watch out for each other?)

 

He’s in the middle of continuing this awful cycle of self-inflicted terror when he hears Lowen’s voice, initially having a discussion with someone else, and then calling for him from downstairs. He pushes himself up, wincing at every ache, and slowly makes his way down to the anteroom of the castle, and nods at Lowen, who grins at him as he opens the door—

—and there’s his son.

There’s Roy.

 

And with tears in his eyes, Roy’s face splits into the biggest smile—

—just like Ninian’s, Eliwood thinks—

—and leaps into his father’s arms, hugging him tightly and trying not to sob onto his father’s cape and providing him with warmth he almost thought he had lost forever, and then Eliwood is smiling and crying too, arms wrapped around his son, and Roy is safe, and finally father and son are reunited, safe from the throes of war.

“Father,” Roy cries, “I’m home. I promised you. I’m home.”

“You are,” Eliwood says, still smiling, “and you’ve certainly grown since the last time I saw you.”

“Oh, have I?”

After another squeeze, Roy steps back and knight salutes his father, to which Eliwood cheerfully returns, and Eliwood takes a quick note of his son.

 

There are more scars, of course, but none too awful, which makes Eliwood let out a sigh of relief; his hair is still as red as it’s ever been, too.

He’s certainly taller, that’s for sure. He might even be the same height as Eliwood now.

Three years have seen a very much boyish face grow more angular, grow into what is undeniably a young man’s face, and his voice is lower (Eliwood thinks it sounds almost like his father’s); it’s almost like looking into a mirror image of himself, which Eliwood smiles at. He really does see the family resemblance that everyone else always spoke of.

And yet there are other traits that come out, too; his mother’s eyes and his mother’s smile, ever-present, there from the beginning and to be there ever after, her dancer’s physique, her gracefulness and her patience and her enthusiasm all shine out through him, and he’s certain this is what Ninian dreamt of when she decided to stay, and looking at his son, he understands now that it was the right decision, and Ninian...

She probably knew it was the right decision, could see into the future and see their son in this moment and knew that staying with him was the right choice all along.

 

And then Roy hugs him again, and Eliwood laughs and hugs him back, kissing his son’s forehead the way he had all those years ago, and Roy laughs, still crying.

“Father, I missed you so much,” he says. “I can’t even describe it. I have so much to tell you! So much happened.” His voice falls silent, then, and he pulls away and smiles. “I hoped you would be proud of me.”

“I’m more proud than words can describe,” Eliwood responds, and another wave of tears falls down Roy’s face.

 

And Roy sits with him and tells him everything, beginning to end; about the bandits and finding Hector and tracking down the divine weapons and everything with Etruria and Bern and every experience he went through, every life he touched, every life who touched him in return, every food and every port, and Eliwood is so happy that Roy never lost that sense of wonder, that Roy has grown out of the fearful child he once was and into who Eliwood always believed he could be, and Eliwood feels whole.

(And Roy goes on and on and on about Lilina, and Eliwood smiles. Roy has found what he and Ninian had, all those years ago, and he realizes Ninian probably foresaw this, too; Roy’s arrival brings him a peace he never thought he would find, because in a way, Ninian almost certainly did get to see their son grow up, fall in love—all of it.

Wherever he is, he can’t expect Hector’s happy with him, though.)

 

It’s well into the evening when Roy finally finishes explaining the whole tale.

“I could not be more proud of you,” Eliwood whispers, voice raspy, but with a smile brighter than anything Roy has ever remembered. “You are everything your mother and I wished you would be and more.”

“All these years, that’s all I’ve ever hoped to hear from you,” Roy responds, voice choking up, and he comes over to hug his father again, and Eliwood smiles. "I love you so much, Papa. I'm just...I'm so glad to be _home_."

"I love you too. Welcome home, Roy."

 

He is home.

They both are.

 

And above them, the forget-me-nots on the windowsill, still carefully maintained after all these years, seem to bloom even fuller, almost as if they are smiling, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the second to last chapter for this fic ;; thank you all so much for the continued support !! i won't go too much into detail right now but rest assured i will have a gigantic sappy paragraph on the next chapter about how much this fic means to me jksjghsjkgds


	21. Chapter 21

It takes a lot to raise a son, Eliwood muses.

He would know, after all.

 

It takes pain and heartache and resilience and growth and more of everything than he ever would have expected it to, but he’s loved every second of it, and it’s been worth everything.

 

And as a father, he’s watched Roy go through so much—just the adventures of being a toddler, the loss of Ninian, meeting his father’s old friends, meeting Lilina, school in Ostia, his first true battle against the bandits, his journey, coming back, _everything_.

 

And Roy grew, and Roy grows; out of his old armor, out of his freckles and out of his scars and out of his childhood, and into the position of Marquess Pherae and then into of King of Lycia, and into his adulthood and everything he and Ninian always dreamed there would be.

And in a way, every step he takes reminds him of her; his grace, his smile, the gentleness with which he treats everything and everyone, and merely his devotion to life itself; Elibe has been torn apart by war and tragedy time and time again over the past twenty something years, but Eliwood watches as Roy stitches it back together, one person, one smile at a time, and knows everything will be alright.

 

-

 

And as Roy grows, Eliwood watches Roy’s relationship with Lilina grow, go from awkward teenagers to gentle lovers to a couple just as passionate as he and Ninian once were, as Hector and Lyn once were, and when he looks at them, he sees two couples at once, a fusion of two worlds once so separate and then irreparably and yet so lovingly intertwined—

—a tale of Ostia and Sacae, of Pherae and a world beyond—

—and he sees the ring, and he sees Roy’s smile—

(—like his father’s, like his, but bolder, more radiant, more full of life and freer than his ever was—)

—and he sees Lilina’s tears, and he sees the hug, and he loves them.

 

“Thank you for welcoming me into your family, Lord Eliwood,” Lilina whispers, and Eliwood shakes his head as he takes Lilina’s hand, Ninis’ Grace glittering on her finger.

(And he smiles at that, and it’s almost as if he can feel Ninian smiling along with him, there the whole time.

And this is what she would’ve wanted, he knows, for House Pherae to continue with grace and strength and _love_ , the things that brought them together in the first place.)

“There’s no need to be so formal anymore, Lilina,” he says, and Lilina looks up at him, gaze soft. “You’re a daughter to me now, aren’t you?”

“I suppose I am,” she responds quietly, a small smile gracing her face as Roy slips his hand into hers, and Eliwood smiles back, watching them as they leave, Lilina resting her head on Roy’s shoulder.

 

“Hector, Lyn—” he breathes, gazing out of the huge window into the blue sky beyond, “you would be so proud of her.”

 

-

 

And then, there’s the wedding, and he’s there for that, too, even as his bones grow frail and his muscles begin to atrophy; and he’s there for Roy as he prepares, and he’s there to adjust Roy’s tie, to straighten out his suit and fix on all of the things Ninian had left for him, and it’s when he’s adjusting the white cape thrown around Roy’s shoulders—

—the same one he had worn at his own coronation and later wedding all those years ago—

—Roy clears his throat, and Eliwood pauses, gazing quietly at his son.

“Father,” Roy asks softly, “do you think this is what Mother would have wanted for me?”

“Without a doubt,” Eliwood says, and Roy’s face breaks into a smile—one that reads so clearly as Ninian’s, just one of the countless ways she lived on, and he sees so much of her in Roy, so much of her in everything—and a newfound confidence traces its way onto Roy’s features, bringing him to life. “This is what she wanted most for you—a happy life, free of conflict. She would be so happy.”

“I hope I’ve made her proud,” he says, and Eliwood nods.

“You have.”

 

And when Eliwood walks Lilina walks down the aisle, it’s with a bouquet of blue forget-me-nots in her arms, purifying the flower forever from the taint of death that stained them for years, and the wedding is smooth, effortless, perfect; Roy and Lilina make a beautiful couple, a beautiful next life for House Pherae, and wed alongside them is all of Lycia, finally uniting the nation into everything that Eliwood and Hector had once dreamt it could be, and under their light, Elibe is safe, and their children have done what they could not.

 

And Eliwood cries when Roy and Lilina kiss, white and pale blue on white, and the scene comes alive with memories of her, and Roy must catch it, too, because when she tosses the bouquet, there’s a moment where the sunlight shines through the flowers directly onto his face, and he smiles.

(And it means something to Lilina, too, because for the moment before she throws it, she gazes at the blue of the flowers and the green of the stalks longingly, shading them with her fingers for just a moment as if to make the blue and green just a couple shades darker and murmuring a soft prayer under her breath.)

 

And then Wolt catches it, and Roy is the first to rib on him to find a wife, and it’s like staring into his past, him and Hector and Lyn and Ninian, and he smiles.

 

-

 

“This is so stressful, Father!” Roy says, throwing himself back on the bed. Eliwood laughs, but the laugh quickly grows into a hacking cough, and Roy rushes to his side, taking one hand in his and placing his other against his father’s back.

“If you hadn’t been so quick to have an heir on the way, this wouldn’t be an issue,” he reminds his son gently as soon as he can breathe again, and then Roy is the one who coughs, turning red.

“F-Father!”  
“Sorry, sorry!” Eliwood clears his throat before resting a hand reassuringly on his son’s shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. You still have months to prepare, first of all, and the two of you have already lead the world so far forward that raising a child will be nothing more than repeating your steps, just at a slightly slower pace.”

“I would rather not fight another dragon,” Roy says jokingly, but he stares back at his hands and lets out another tense huff. Eliwood squeezes his shoulder.

“I think there are things you’ll find you’ll do for a child that you wouldn’t have ever dreamed of doing for yourself.”

His son looks up at him, then, and there’s a moment of clear understanding that passes between the two of them without speaking another word; Roy remembers, too, after all. They both remember the sleepless nights, the tears, the whispers for her to come back and the silence that told them she would never be anything but gone, and they both remember the extra hours Eliwood had taken to be both parents to Roy, even when he had been just one that was struggling just to be kind to himself.

“How did you do it, Father?” Roy asks after a beat, and Eliwood exhales.

“I just had to,” Eliwood says quietly. “You were all I had left, and I myself would have died before I let anything touch you, whether or not your mother was still alive. It’s an instinct you feel from the bottom of your soul—that this existence in front of you is just so small and so precious, but that existence is the future, and it needs to be protected, no matter what.” He looks in front of him, and for a moment, Roy sees what he must have been like, all those years ago, sword poised against Nergal or whatever great beast came after, and then Eliwood turns to him and offers him the same frail yet warm smile he’s always known, and draws his son in for a hug. “You’ll understand one day. It’s a force more than strong enough to save the world.”

 

-

 

He begins to understand what Ninian must have felt, towards the twilight of his life.

 

If Hector and Lyn were still here, they would tell him he was dying too young, and Lyn would probably be crying while Hector would attempt to stifle his sobs, come off as the manly man he always tried to be, but then, neither of them are here anymore; the two of them died first, far younger than any dead man should be.

 

He is no longer well enough to visit their graves, can no longer walk without a cane or the assistance of one of the younger retainers; Lowen and Rebecca have long since retired, gone to spend the rest of their lives with those dear to them, and it’s different without them around, without people to reminisce about the war with and the times, both good and bad, they had once shared.

He finds that the new guards just don’t understand, nor are they as concerned as Lowen and Rebecca would be when he wakes up and his entire body aches and trembles.

 

There have always been days like this, even back when he was merely a boy on a mission to save his father; days where he would skip breakfast because it felt like he could keep nothing down, days when all of his organs and muscles screamed at him to stop, but those were days where he could keep pushing forward. He stopped being able to do that sometime around when Roy left for Ostia, his body finally rejecting his efforts to get better, and since then, the days have only come more fiercely and more frequently. He eats less, and knows that Marcus would have scolded him for doing so, once upon a time, and that his friends would have placed food in front of him and not left until he had finished it and kept it down, watching over him the entire time.

Roy writes to him and tells him he will get better, that he and Lilina will come visit soon, and Eliwood writes back and promises that he will try, but in the back of their minds, they both know that this day has been coming for longer than either of them would like to acknowledge.

 

He is not well enough to go visit them when Roy’s son is born, and Roy cries.

 

-

 

He hears that the birth wasn’t easy on Lilina, and he remembers that back then, it hadn’t been easy on Ninian, either; still, she’s okay, and he is thankful. Lilina and Roy go to visit Eliwood, months later, when their child is old enough and Lilina is well enough to travel.

It’s a long journey back from Ostia, after all.

 

Unlike the world outside, the castle, as always, has never changed; even in his old age, Eliwood has kept the pot of forget-me-nots stocked and healthy year after year, without fail. They no longer remind him solely of Ninian, instead reflecting memories of his son’s wedding, of the lives that have been brought forth in Elibe that will never have to know the tragedy that his did, but he feels like it would be a disgrace to let them die simply because they are no longer needed in the way that they once were.

(In a way, letting the flowers die feels like letting himself die, but that is happening—has _been_ happening—so maybe it’s only fitting that he and the flowers leave this world together. He raises his hand to brush his fingers against the pale blue of the petals, and the forget-me-nots dance like she once did, and he sighs.)

 

The moment of tranquility is broken when the door slams open and Roy darts in, immediately by his father’s side; Eliwood returns his hand to his bed, pushing himself up to greet his son. He doesn’t miss the worry that immediately traces its way over his son’s features when he winces in pain, but he tries to ignore it, tries to remember that the pain will end someday soon, one way or another.

“Father, are you well?” Roy whispers quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to know the answer.

 _No_.

“As well as I will be,” Eliwood says, and he offers Roy a smile, but Roy doesn’t return it, only lowers his head until it rests against the mattress, taking his father’s hand in his. “There’s no reason to bow, Roy. I’m not dead yet.”

“Father...”

And then, there is the cry of a life much newer, much healthier than his, and he looks up in the doorway to see Lilina with a baby swaddled in her arms; his eyes immediately light up as she wanders over and places his grandson in his arms, warm and breathing and _alive_ , and he smiles.

“Your grandson,” she says, almost as if presenting it to him.

Like a gift, he thinks, and he smiles. That’s what life is, after all.

“He looks like both of you,” he says, and he does, but when he looks harder, he can see traces of himself and Ninian and Lyn and Hector all packed into this one tiny bundle of life, and he wonders if in a way, they all live on in this child, this one life that is truly a culmination of some thirty odd years of history, that truly begins and defines an era of peace.

“We thought he looked like you, Father,” Roy says, and Eliwood blanks, gazing up at him.

“Really?”

“He has your nose, and the lower part of his face looks like you did, in all those old paintings,” Roy points out, and Eliwood takes another look.

(He sees it, and he exhales. Maybe the age is getting to him.)

And then his grandson blinks open his eyes and gazes at him curiously in a tranquil silence, and the round shape and the subtle red glimmer of pale blue irises only reminds him of Ninian.

“He looks like your mother, Roy,” Eliwood says quietly, and Roy tilts his head, and then breaks into a smile.

“He does,” he agrees, voice soft. “He does.”

 

-

 

Roy and Lilina don’t leave.

Lycia is under control, briefly maintained by a prime minister the two of them have appointed and left in charge; when told of the failing health of the Marquess Pherae, the people had understood.

Once, he had been a hero, too, after all.

“Father, are you sure there’s nothing that can be done?” Roy asks one night, and Eliwood shakes his head.

“Even if there was, I’m not sure I would be able to handle it, with my body being in this state,” Eliwood says, and he lets out a shuddering exhale, breath crackling. Roy’s mouth tenses into a tight line, and Lilina stares at the floor. Their son sleeps peacefully in Roy’s arms, undisturbed by the way his father had tensed.

“Surely you can’t just give up,” Roy says softly.

“I’m not giving up,” Eliwood reminds him gently. “I just don’t have time. I was not meant to live forever, like some of the great lords always seem to do. I wouldn’t consider myself a hero, but a hero’s end is certainly not one that I’ll be having.”

“It’s not fair for you to die like this,” Roy responds, hands trembling. He passes his son to Lilina before he wakes him, and Lilina exchanges a look with him before standing.

“Thank you for having us, Lo— _Father_ ,” Lilina corrects herself, and Eliwood offers her a smile. That seems to calm her nerves at least a little bit, even if Roy remains tense. She excuses herself and leaves the room, leaving Roy and Eliwood alone together.

“It’s not fair,” he repeats, and Eliwood exhales. “You...Father, no matter what you believe, you _are_ a hero. Lycia—no, _Elibe_ —owes itself to you! It’s not fair for you to die like this! You shouldn’t just be left to decay in solitude like some forgotten prisoner! This is...it’s not....it’s not right,” he says, and his voice cracks, and Eliwood’s heart aches for him, just wants to sit up and embrace his son the way he had the nights after Ninian had passed, and promise everything will be okay, that Papa will still be here, but the issue is that he won’t be, and even if he was, his body no longer allows him to.

“I have no regrets,” Eliwood responds simply. “I have done what I needed to do, and at least for me, that’s enough. The world no longer has need of me.”

“I still need you,” Roy whispers. “I still need you. I’ve always needed you.”

“You’ll be fine,” he says. “I know you will.”

Roy simply squeezes his hand, gaze dropping to the floor.

“I wish you could have had more time,” he says quietly.

“I’m only glad that I got to spend what little time I did have with you.”

“You should have lived twice this amount of time.”

“A life that long isn’t meant for everyone.”

“...how are you so at peace with this?”

Eliwood pauses.

“Make no mistake—death has never been my friend, but I’ve spent more than my fair share of time waiting to see someone again.”

 

-

 

He has yet to experience death himself, but he remembers that when it happened to Ninian, everything happened so fast—she was simultaneously more aware of everything and yet also more disconnected from reality than he’d ever seen her, and she had gone out in a fierce burst of emotions, in a desperate, overwhelmingly powerful wish to just keep on living, to just keep on existing, to just see everything one last time, and he remembers the turmoil that defined her last moments—he had thought, at one point, that his death might be like that, but instead, his last hours are writ in heavy silence, neither joyous nor sorrowful; it simply _is_. His life will not go out like a great flash or mighty storm, simply quietly fade out like he had always thought it would, and somehow, that is fitting.

He has no regrets, that is sure. Once, he might have, might have mourned bringing Ninian to Elibe, might have thought otherwise of sending his son to war, might have begged for someone to have taken him instead of Hector, but in his last moments, all is calm. He is hesitant to close his eyes, but not hesitant to go.

He hopes Roy will understand.

 

Roy—the one thing he wishes he could cling to, if not for himself, but for his son. Not necessarily a regret, but a wish that he could have been a better father, that he could have been everything to Roy that Hector was to Lilina, that he could have held him a little tighter when he had cried, that he truly could have been both father and mother and given his son the childhood that he and Ninian had always dreamt he would have. He doesn’t think he says these thoughts out loud, but when he feels the softest trace of Roy’s hand against his, he’s no longer so sure. He can feel the energy sapping out of him, so he doesn’t try to raise his head, merely speaks and hopes that will be enough.

“Roy?”  
“I’m here, Father,” Roy says quietly, and Eliwood can tell he’s trying to keep himself together. He hears a sniffle from Lilina, standing behind him. “I’m here.”

“Thank you,” he says softly. “There was no greater joy in this life than to watch you grow up.”

“I have only ever strived to become what you always believed I could be,” Roy says, and he watches his father wilt, struggles to breathe as he recalls how his father had clasped his hand on his shoulder and joked with him only a mere couple weeks ago, and how quickly he had disintegrated in front of him; his father had fallen from grace like sand through his fingertips, and his only wish was that he could have held on, could have found a way to catch every individual grain and build him back up again but with organs that weren’t failing him, with muscles and bones that weren’t atrophying and wearing down with every breath he took; once, he had felt like this with his mother, and once, his father had been there to hold him and help him heal.

Now, he must be father not only to his son, but father to himself, as Eliwood once did, too, after his father died. Their lives parallel and intertwine in so many ways, but he knows this is where they part.

He wonders if his reflection will always remind him of Eliwood.

“You have only ever been everything I dreamed,” Eliwood responds, and Roy is eternally grateful that even at the end of his life, his father has always been profound, wise beyond words. He wonders if it’s perhaps a life always lived at the edge of death that makes one think the way he does, or maybe it’s just the way Eliwood is. He supposes he’ll have more time to ponder this once Eliwood is—

—he can’t even bring himself to say the word, but he must be at peace with it.

“Please say hello to Mother for me,” Roy whispers. Eliwood cracks a smile.

“She’ll be happy to see how you’ve grown,” Eliwood murmurs, and then he pauses, taking another breath. He can feel Roy’s anxiety spike every time he breathes from beside him, afraid that each crackling inhale will be his last. “When I’m gone, remember me, but please don’t waste the rest of your life wishing for me to come back. You have so much more life left to live than that of a mourner’s.”

“I wouldn’t dare disappoint you, Father.”

“I would never imagine you would.” Eliwood inhales again and coughs, and searing pain flares through his lungs, and Roy cries out for him, squeezing his hand. He feels a tear slip from Roy’s cheek onto the back of his palm. “Roy—your son—”

“He’s here, Father,” Roy breathes, and Lilina passes their son into Roy’s arms.

“He’s so much like you, when you were young,” Eliwood says, a smile gracing his features. It’s the same smile Roy has known since he was very young; more reserved than his, more reserved than Eliwood’s father, whom he had only seen in old paintings hung around the castle, and yet warmer and more welcoming than anything he had ever known.

“You were so sad, then,” his son recalls, withdrawing a hand to wipe his eyes. “It’s made me so happy to see you regain some of the joy I remember you having, when I was this small.”

“It’s because of you. If there’s only one thought I can leave behind that brings you peace, let it be that one—I’ve always been sickly, Roy. This was always going to happen. From the beginning, I always had to train twice as hard and twice as long, and rest for three times that, simply to keep up with everyone else—with a body like this, I was never going to last as long as everyone else, and that incompetence used to drive me insane. I never wanted to be the best, just not to fall behind, not to watch everyone else do what I could not. Yet, to see you outgrow me and take over my role, and lead Lycia—really, all of Elibe—into this bright of a future...I’ve never been happier to fall behind someone. You are achieving everything I could not, and I have never been prouder. Yours is a name that will define history.”

“It should have been yours, Father,” Roy whimpers, and Eliwood shakes his head.

“Lilina’s father and I...we knew we would not be the ones to save Elibe for good. It wasn’t meant to be. We knew it would be you. I am only glad to have been a witness.”

“Father...”

“Please be at peace. There’s nothing to cry about. It’s been a good life.”

“I should be telling that to you, Father.” Roy breaks into another sob. “Thank you for...for everything. I love you, Papa.”

“I love you too, Roy.”

He one last look at his grandson, and giving one last smile and one last “I love you” to his son—his precious, beloved son—he turns to the light and closes his eyes.

 

(It’s been a good life, he thinks.

Perhaps that’s what he was meant to do—

—to raise a son.

He thinks Ninian would agree.)

 

-

 

And when he opens his eyes, he is surrounded by flowers—forget-me-nots—of every color, placed underneath the branches of a great tree, and the sky is clear and blue above him, and the breeze is warm and balmy around him, and he sits up and realizes that for the first time in...decades, really, that he’s not in any pain.

He holds his arms out in front of him and doesn’t see the scars and wrinkles he’s grown accustomed to seeing, instead seeing smooth skin, and he gingerly traces his fingers over his face and can’t feel any wrinkles or scars there, either.

He’s _young_.

He gets up to his feet, pulls his sword out of his sheath to see his reflection, and he _is_ young. He looks just like he did at the end of their great journey, in his prime, and he’s so shocked by it that he barely even jumps when he feels a familiar hand grasp at his shoulder.

He turns around, and there’s his father.

“My son,” Elbert whispers, and Eliwood smiles, tears immediately making their way down his cheeks.

“Father,” he responds, and the word rolls so naturally off of his tongue, and he throws himself into Elbert’s arms. “Oh, Father, I have so much to tell you—”

And then he pulls away, about to start his tale, and out of the corner of his eye he sees a familiar hulking Ostian and his petite Sacaen wife, looking just as they did at the end of Eliwood’s journey, holding hands and still bickering with each other, and his jaw drops.

“Hector,” he breathes, smiling, “and Lyndis! You’re...you’re _here_!”

And both of them nod, and Hector gives that great laugh that Eliwood had been deprived of for so, so long, and Elbert sends him off to them with a smile, promising he’ll be around to hear Eliwood’s stories later—and Eliwood doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around them, tears falling down his cheeks even faster.

“We’ve been waiting for you, you great lump,” Hector says, and Eliwood laughs, and there's no painful crackling—his lungs don’t hurt.

“You shaved, I see.”

“Only because Lyn made me!”

Lyn elbows him playfully, and then smiles at Eliwood. “You’re very loved, hm?”

“Oh, very much so,” Eliwood says, grinning from ear-to-ear, drying his tears. “I have so much to tell you all—”

“I bet you do, my lord,” another voice murmurs, and Eliwood whips around, and his eyes meet Roy’s, but red, and—

— _oh Elimine_ —

—and it’s Ninian, smiling at him exactly the way he remembers her doing all those years ago.

“Ninian?” he whispers, and suddenly, he’s shaking, sobbing with joy, and she reaches out her arms for him, as soft and ethereal as she’s always been, and he’s been bereft of her touch and her sweetness and of _her_ for so long, and—

“I’ve been waiting for you for so long, my love,” she whispers, tears falling down her cheeks, mouth curved up into that perfect smile, the one she shares with her son, and she holds out her arms.

 

With tears in his eyes, young and healthy and really, truly in love all over again for the first time in forever, he runs toward her and sweeps her up in his arms and kisses her with all of the love he’s been unable to give her since that fateful day, and this time, he never lets go.

 

In the meadow, Roy takes Lilina and they watch as his parents’ forget-me-nots bloom; among the flowers, dancing in the breeze, he swears he sees the sweeping of his father’s cape and hears the tinkling of his mother’s laughter, and for the first time in forever, he is finally at peace.

 

-

 

_“My lord Eliwood?”_

_Eliwood looks up to see Ninian, placed as ornately as ever on the chair across from him, fidgeting nervously in her seat, fingers rubbing methodically against her wedding ring._

_“Yes, my love?”_

_“Let’s have a baby.”_

_Eliwood smiles._

_“Okay.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading this fic all the way to the end !! i can't describe how much this means to me. i really hope the final chapter was up to everyone's expectations.
> 
> not to make this last note super sappy, but this fic really has been like a baby to me lmao--while i've been writing this fic, i've been dealing with my own struggles with chronic illness, which i feel like is part of the reason i fell in love with eliwood as a character, because he also experiences these things, albeit much more drastically than i do. getting to explore his relationship with his illness has really helped me get a grasp of my own, which has been immensely helpful as i've been trying to navigate the trip that is Trying To Exist
> 
> setting aside all the personal junk, the amount of support i've received on this fic has really been truly incredible !!! reading these comments has never failed to make my day, and it's made me a lot more confident in my writing and was a big part of me actually managing to haul ass and finish this fic! the fact that we actually broke 100 kudos is absolutely insane to me and the amount of hits and comments i received has made me so incredibly happy that people appreciate my work !!! ive seen some really profound and heartfelt reactions to these chapters, and it makes me really happy that i've been able to touch people's hearts like this ;;v;; i could put as many words as possible into it and i still don't think i'd be able to truly explain how incredible it's been to receive this much support on my writing, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much!!!! this game and these characters really do mean the world to me and i'm so glad i was able to share this experience with other people!!
> 
> it's very bittersweet for me to finally finish to raise a son, but i really hope that you enjoyed this fic and that the final chapter lived up to your expectations !! it may not be another hulk of a 33k word fic but you will absolutely catch me in the eliwood/ninian tag again haha
> 
> (also not to promo lmao but if you want to see me scream about eliwood in real time, you can follow my twitter which is @jellijeans !! i'm literally always down to talk haha)
> 
> but yeah once again thank you so much for reading this fic!! i really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it, so for the last time, thank you all so much for the continued support!!! ;v; <3

**Author's Note:**

> just so everyone knows, i'm now working on a hector-centric (and also heclyn) companion fic to this fic called to raise a daughter!! i hope you'll consider reading that as well!! thank you so much for all the support !! ;;v;;


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